


The Dancing Demons - Director's Cut

by Dale Pike (yesiamTHATdalepike)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 22,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesiamTHATdalepike/pseuds/Dale%20Pike
Summary: In this script-style retelling of Doyle’s ‘The Dancing Men’, Sherlock tries fruitlessly to solve Mycroft’s murder... PLUS... Bonus DVD Commentary by the writer, with liner notes explaining BBC Sherlock, The Lost Special, The Subtext Source Code, The Sherlock Fandom, and absolutely all things Dale Pike: the Mastermind, the Myth, the Legendary Imp of the Tea-Brigade.  This, my dear friends, is the Mother Lode.Special limited-edition featurettes: Why It Matters and Why Series Four Doesn’t Actually Suck (Much).  If you’re a Sherlock fan; here is your One-Stop Definitive Compendium.  If not... here’s your Rosetta Stone.  The views contained herein are 100% unauthorized by BBC (which, I think... if they ever did hear of this... they would 100% endorse).
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 97
Kudos: 5





	1. TITLE PAGE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherlockrequiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockrequiem/gifts), [abigatorfrenzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigatorfrenzy/gifts), [LavenderGhost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderGhost/gifts), [Hope_Austen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope_Austen/gifts), [alaflingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaflingo/gifts), [MrsMetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMetta/gifts), [I_love_mah_ships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_love_mah_ships/gifts), [InAGoldenReflection](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InAGoldenReflection/gifts), [Loudest_Subtext_in_Television](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loudest_Subtext_in_Television/gifts), [VictoryCandescence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoryCandescence/gifts), [rubycue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubycue/gifts).



> Well. Thought I’d post something, since I don’t think there’ll be anything good on telly this weekend either*.
> 
> *Update: when I first posted this last weekend, I ACTUALLY FORGOT to gift a couple people that I had promised this too. (Subconscious restraint is really strong, I guess.) Sorry. Situation remedied.
> 
> Sorry to the folks I gifted to; it is SO long. Don't feel like you need to read it all in one go. (Don't feel like you need to read it at all, in fact... I ain't the boss of you. Just thought you'd like it.)
> 
> Trigger warnings: Everyone. EVERYONE’s gonna be offended. Trust me. Oh, and if you’re over the age of maturity, be aware that there’s a titch of potty-mouth; including, but not limited to: wankers, tossers, hoes and poppycock.
> 
> Why do I feel the need to produce an extended special edition TDD with commentary track? Two main reasons: 
> 
> 1) It’s a piece... the very 1st piece... of my Sherlock shit. This is where I keep my Sherlock shit. Someone had messaged me to say my script was good; they had liked it, they were annoyed it was hard to find. Until now, it’s been housed online with one of the villains in my story. So I thought I should bring the prodigal son home. Now IN 3-D!
> 
> 2) My experiences as Dale Pike have given me a rare perspective on Sherlock in general and Series Four in particular: Eurus is right. Context is everything. If you have the right context, you CAN solve what matters... right down to the last word. (So, there you go, ARG. It’s been done. You can stop ARGing now, if the quest is doing you harm. You probably really need some sleep. If your mums and dads or anyone else are worried about you, you can share this story with them so they have the context too.)
> 
> This fiction is a reprint of a script-style story that I wrote in 2015. Interestingly, it had a LOT of the keys to figuring out the “end game” so to speak... I just didn’t realize their full significance at the time. So here is ‘The Dancing Demons’: complete with liner notes. Enjoy in whatever capacity you please, but I recommend it in the order it’s laid down for the best clarity. Please keep your appendages inside the cab until the end of the ride. This is for your own safety. But, by all means, make comments anywhere after. Oh... and I’d recommend reading the comments too. With the exception of five little gifts in the fathoms below, they are always unscripted and always the best part of any Pike fic.
> 
> Mainly, I wanted to make this posting for the Newcomer; the uninitiated. The person that steps unwittingly into this Fandom (for whatever reason) looks around and says “WTseriousF happened here?” I sympathize; that was me in 2015, and it wasn’t even that F’d then. I can’t give you the whole story of this land but I can give you mine, and (despite what some might say) it really is a good one. It’s mostly my own insights, but I’ll weave in the stuff from other Sherlock speculators with the references that I thought were most valuable. I make no promises, but it might help you solve something for yourself... whatever it is you’re looking for. 
> 
> I wish this wasn’t necessary, but if you’re completely green, Newbie, there’s a couple of warnings: if you kip on Mama Pike’s lilo—or, really, if you go anywhere in this Fandom—you’re going to come across a few ARGs and Furies. 
> 
> ARG stands for Alternative Reality Game, which is what some people think they are “playing” online with BBC to find clues for Series 5 or a “Lost Special”. Most of them, I think, are just doing it casually and having fun with it. There’s a few, however, that reportedly make it a very mentally-unhealthy obsession, though most of my knowledge on that matter is 2nd hand. (In my mind, ‘ARG’ is apt, because it’s also the visceral sound everybody else makes in the frustration of wanting to snap these guys out of it so Sherlock could just be fun... the way TV shows and mysteries are supposed to be.) 
> 
> “Fury” is so-named in my lexicon because of “League of Furies” – from The Abominable Bride of course, but also apt; she represents the Defenders of the Fandom’s Old Bees’ Club, and they are very angry. In my experience (which I WISH was only 2nd hand!), it is often for the noble purposes of lambasting BBC’s fan-baiting and for snuffing out the ARGing to protect people. But it’s been 3 years and apparently all that madness is still going on, so I dunno... they’re either not noble enough or not furious enough for those quixotic quests, I guess?
> 
> Excuse me a minute on the cover page while I jot down some preemptive caveats that ARG and Fury will likely ignore. (They almost always ignore everything I ACTUALLY SAY.) You won’t understand it until later in the notes, so go ahead if you want... I’ll meet you at Scene One.

SHERLOCK

“The Dancing Demons”

Obviously not written by:  
Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat

READ THROUGH DRAFT  
Issued 30/11/15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone Come-Round-Again: You are most welcome back! Be aware: everything in this fic has been online already, with a singular exception: pages 61-63 of the script. (I had held this back previously, as a way of keeping my copy “the original”.) Other than that, the script is unchanged, and all the information in the notes is just a reprint of stuff I’ve been saying somewhere for the past five years (whether in stories, comments, twitter feed, etc.) You’re welcome to fact-check me on that; but there’s nothing added or deleted. It’s just all in one place, in the right order, for ease of accessibility. 
> 
> Be nice to the newcomers please. They are the future. Also... remember that Newbie may be here for reasons other than being a Sherlock fan. In fact, that is the main reason I’ve written this: the outside world may be looking for a primer... and I’m the most definitive and accessible one there is. If you are looking for a singular posting to pull it all together, Dale Pike is like the all-access-pass microcosmic summary tribute... the Human Book of Reference, if you will. (No, I am. Trust me. We can argue about it later, ‘finalproblem’... I KNOW you rock; but I’m the bird’s eye view.)
> 
> To people (still?!!!) ARGing too hard: Health, family, friends, work, fresh air, sports, etc. etc. etc. are ALL more important than a stupid Game. I am astounded that this is still going on. Let’s end it, here and now: the Game Is Solved. Really and truly; if you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it in this post. I’m probably not the first one to do it (but I doubt the Darwins out there care enough to put the whole evolutionary she-bang in one place, so I finally realized that I should chronicle it). I wish you’d take this story link to a therapist or a trusted friend and let them decipher it for you. If I were Mofftiss, I think they would so decree.  
> (P.S. When you get clear... hey, shit happens, right? No hard feelings on my side, anyway. Keep movin’ forward. I wish you whatever peace you’re looking for.)  
> *For any people attempting to help ARGers get clear; here is a shorter version that I’d had posted long ago: (https://yesiamthatdalepike.wixsite.com/index/single-post/2017/04/02/Public-Service-Announcement) But it’s only a fragment of the whole story, and it’s on a site that I do not have the access to control, hence this updated and more thorough version here. 
> 
> And to Fury: Ah, Scarecrow. I think I’m gonna miss you the most. But you gotta get real: saying that someone like me is responsible for creating the ARG problem is like saying that someone who gets breast cancer deserves it because they were tweaking their nipples too much. (No NO – it IS a good analogy... cancer isn’t some kind of demonic evil, remember? It’s a bunch of normal cells gone abnormally wonky. We don’t know precisely what causes it; it’s usually multi-factorial, but tweaking is NOT one of them! I use humor to cope with it, so if you think that’s fruitless, well... I’d wager you don’t know many actual cancer survivors, then. And I’ve tried pretty hard to get it cured, but it’s probably going to be the thing that kills me. See? Perfectly analogous.) But PIKE! you cry, YOU WERE TWEAKING THEM IN PUBLIC! To which, I respectfully rebut: I was on my “porch”. I didn’t think anyone was watching (and when I first noticed the neighbors that seemed to enjoy it, I thought they were harmless) and how do you know I wasn’t just scratching, Officer?! Female toplessness is legal in my province! 
> 
> Listen, Furiosa-mimosa-barbossa. The issue here is not whether or not I committed Wilde-style gross indecency. (It was petite, and I’ve served enough time; duh profundis, thanks.) The issue is that there will always be some Sherlockians out there that just want to play with their bubbies. (Or their friends’ bubbies... whatever, there’s all sorts here.) The younglings are harmed by misinformation and fear-mongering more often than the damn cancer! Extinguishing freedom of expression is NOT the way to go on this issue and I bet, by the end of my liner notes here, I can make you see the good in Me, as well as S4. (I do realize this is probably a futile task for some of your ilk and that’s okay. Convincing you isn’t the point; it would just be a happy bonus.)
> 
> But I realize that reading all this takes valuable time, so I’ll offer you something worth your while. Fancy a little wager? If even ONE person tells me in comments that my stories are pointless, Dale Pike will NEVER write another Sherlock fic. Promise. I’m a woman who is true to my *ahem* Word. (Heh; see what I... aw, fuck it.) 
> 
> LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION!


	2. Scene One

1\. EXT. GRASSY FIELD – NIGHT 

Sounds of fast breathing, heartbeats, footsteps. 

POV of someone running, staggering, falling and getting up. Tall grass, immediate foreground visible only; low to ground.

POV of runner looking backward; blurry image of someone large-looking, chasing them, a lighted house in the distance. 

POV faces forward again, falling, then continuing forward in a crawling motion. Hands of the crawler are frenzied and blurry.

Muffled, echoing and unintelligible (but could be: “stop!” or “Sherlock!”) shouting from behind. 

Tall grasses and bushes ahead, parting as crawler reaches them, opening into darkness. POV continues in a lunge forward...

... then a sudden sweeping motion, as if crawler is picked up, swung through the air; brief flashes of a twilight sky.

Black. 

VO: a high-pitched shriek; it begins as a startled scream but dissolves into child-like laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Let’s start at the VERY beginning... I was on a short sabbatical of sorts and had more time for pop-culture fluff and Matthew had just dashed his brains in that tragic motor accident. Honestly, I don’t know why I liked that show; I don’t like soaps and Downton Abby should be the plot equivalent of an antique tabloid, but either it’s critically defensible or I'm just a sucker for most things British, (having been raised on a solid diet of Python, Fawlty and—once over age of majority—League of Gentlemen, which hopefully explains a lot of my meta references and my bent sense of humour).
> 
> Sherlock, Netflix kept prompting me incessantly, Sherlock. SHERLOCK!
> 
> But I’m not a mystery fan, I tried to tell it. Especially Conan Doyle. I tried Baskervilles and a few others in highschool, and thought they were ridiculous. Doyle is part genius, part ass. Yes, he created some timeless characters and this is truly where his talents lay. But his plots? He works backwards from the answer and makes himself look smart by making the reader think they can play along until they must be ultimately be rescued by his clever explanation (oh, but YOU could have solved it, if you just knew off-hand that the swamp adder is the deadliest snake in India AND it can be trained with the lure of a saucer of milk.... which, as it turns out, is actually factual bullshit. Ugh. Wanker. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me sixty times, uh... whatever. Fine. FINE, Netflix, I’ll watch it. It’s got a really attractive, talented, funny lead anyway. And then there’s the other one, what’s-his-name... Bumbersnatch?)
> 
> So, 9 binged episodes later (all there was at this time, spring-ish of 2015) I’m enthralled in something in a way I haven’t been since Elijah Wood marched barefoot over the mountains of New Zealand (in LOTR... don’t talk to me about Hobbit; PJ is as dead-to-me as he is to Lindsay Ellis.) This new Sherlock show was inexplicably enticing, probably because it seemed—unlike the majority of Doyle stuff—that it could indeed be “solved”, predicted, played-along-with, etc. to some degree. I had never written fan-fiction in my life but I couldn’t help myself and “Home to Roost” just fell out (though I didn’t post it online until 2017). The title was poignant to me in several ways... I had loved creative writing in high-school, but hadn’t done it in years. 
> 
> Brief aside: Newbie, most Sherlock theorists abbreviate the titles of episodes and other well-known sources. For example, ‘A Study in Pink’ is known as ASiP. I know that’s probably obvious, but I don’t know how clueless you are, so I’ll attempt to be clear. Feel free to ask questions in the comments if I’m not. I usually answer (unless I’m taking a break from the various inevitable concussions that Fury gives me). There are NO stupid questions. One time, “Savvy”—you’ll meet her later—had to explain to me that a Trmojas means “this-reminds-me-of-john-and-sherlock” and something like pfpppstettaegaglkdsgfh;sdfsa is a “keyboard smash” and it’s what Millennials do online when they are excited or exasperated. I just barely have a dash of Millennial cusp mixed in with my Gen-Y (...Y... Why?! ‘Insanity laughs, under pressure we’re CRACKING...!’)
> 
> It was pretty obvious to me that the “underlying” cross-series arc would have something to do with Mycroft. The cases across seasons were all presented as distinct and mostly unrelated to him and that should be your first clue something’s up. (I was already acquainted with Moffat’s writing style via Who-verse.) General Chan in TBB talking to “M”... Moriarty? Yeah, that’s what you’re SUPPOSED to think. The Bruce Partington plans (TGG)... casually unimportant commission by Mycroft. Irene Adler’s phone in ASiB... Mycroft. For a “Royal” obviously. (Sure, whatever.) Magnussen exposing letters; that’s Lady “Smallwood”, but oh! Mycroft is SO touchy about this subject. The theme repeated over and over is Concealment and the device used is Slight-of-Hand and the person at the centre of it is Big Brother. And YOU (the viewer) are invited to see exactly what you expect/want to see. (Don’t peek at the man behind the curtain yet, we’re not ready for that!) Plus the “can’t-handle-a-broken-heart” quote in TEH, the black cat on the doorstep in HLV... never has a character’s death been so blatantly foreshadowed since Goose was banging out GREAT BALLS OF FIRE with pretty perfect wifey Meg Ryan on his lap. Mycroft was not only at the centre of the mystery, but he was also on borrowed time... how delicious! Who wouldn’t want to kill Mycroft?!
> 
> (Oh, sorry. I forget; you’re not that far into my script yet. Yep, he totally dies. Don’t let the next scene throw you... time is wibbly-wobbly.)


	3. Scene Two

2\. INT. HOUSE, LIVING ROOM – NIGHT 

A young BOY, slightly chubby, stalks sulkily in from an outside door, carrying a giggling dark-haired TODDLER under left arm. Plunks him down into a playpen. 

From nearby room, unintelligible conversation in a woman’s distressed tone.

BOY throws himself into an armchair, glowering at playpen.

BOY  
(Calling towards door)  
Mummy! The beast got out of his cage again.

The TODDLER holds rungs, bounces on legs, shrieks.

Argument in adjoining room halts. Through door, part of MUM’S body is seen, but not who she was talking to.

MUM (O.S.)  
Oh, honestly! Is it really so much to ask that you keep an eye on your little brother? I’ll be there in five minutes.

Unintelligible argument continues in hushed tones.

TODDLER  
(Excited)  
Mikey! Mikey! Mikey!

Scowling, BOY gets up and walks towards the playpen, irritated.

BOY  
Why do you always have to be so difficult?

TODDLER looks up adoringly at him. Offers him the brightly-coloured plastic toy phone he is playing with.

BOY  
(Scoffs)  
Don’t be so stupid.

His expression softens somewhat first, but he still turns and walks away.

DISSOLVE TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I’d written that first short fiction, I wondered: what’s it feel like to do this for realsies? I’d never written anything script-style before but had just been inspired by an article about how it’s actually a very freeing experience (because you leave all the prose-y stuff to the director/set designers and you can really hone in on the beautiful nuances of dialogue). I didn’t think I would enjoy it, because I thought I was too prose-y. I gave one scene a shot. And another... and another, and I was sold—doing this stuff IS enjoyable—until it hit its 44 scenes and I was pretty pleased with it. I slapped a watermark on it, printed it and showed it to a real-life friend (cuz if you’ve wasted THAT much time on something, you might as well have some fun with it). It fooled him for about 15 minutes. He asked if there was any similar theories online about Mycroft, to which I had no idea, being a pretty pure internet virgin. He showed me how fans speculate about TV shows on Reddit and 4chan and Twitter. (So, Fury, what followed was really all HIS fault, from a certain point of view, a la Kenobi.)
> 
> I was curious to know more about Mycroft theories, so I googled and hit upon the “loudest” (most prolific) speculator at the time. I read a lot about “M-Theory” as it was called, as well as a lot of OTHER stuff. Stuff about tea. (Um, Newbie... I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this is one of the BBC Sherlock fundamentals: some people like coffee, and some like tea. For context, watch or read about The Private Life Of Sherlock Holmes.) I hadn’t ever seen TPLOSH and also hadn’t thought of Sherlock/John together in a romantic way, so my knee-jerk reaction was “Whoa. Well. Hmm. This is a lot of whacky UFO-conspiracy-level bullshit. I’m gonna go to bed.”
> 
> But I kept reading. Until about 3 am. By which time, I was a convert. 
> 
> One of my favourite pieces was a breakdown of TSoT and how the whole episode is metaphorically about Sherlock deducing himself into understanding his feelings. I’m pretty sure this was by that same M-Theory writer, (forgive me if I’m wrong... it’s been a while and a lot of stuff has moved, so I don’t know how to link to you it, but variations probably still exist on Tumblr). It really was a brilliant piece of objective reasoning and meta analysis.
> 
> I don’t think I ever read one about The Hounds, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone besides me came up with this: this episode is all about psychological conditioning and how anyone (especially children) can be subtly (and not so subtly) taught to fear something that isn’t actually monstrous at all, but the damage can “hound” them for the rest of their lives. (Hey, Come-Rounders: if there is a meta blog out there already explaining that, feel free to link it in comments. It’s cool: you can be Darwin and I’ll be... uh, the other guy.) 
> 
> If this is completely all Greek to you (heh. see what I did there?) feel free to go check it out and come back later. Or stay and get the Full Monty up front, which has SPOILERS but it might make you appreciate everything out there at present so much more. Please don’t completely fuck off. It’ll get WAY muddier before it gets clearer, but trust me. I am a good egg and this is a good story.


	4. Scene Three

3\. EXT. LONDON STREET (EDMONTON GREEN) – DAY 

SHERLOCK walking along sidewalk; our view of him and his posture mirrors the previous scene’s figure retreating.

A black car pulls up alongside. MYCROFT gets out and falls in step with him.

MYCROFT  
Odd time of day to find you up and about. Odd neighborhood to find you in, too. Well. When you’re clean.

SHERLOCK  
(Scowling, rubs neck)  
You see, this lends credibility to my suspicion that you actually did have me tagged somehow.

MYCROFT  
If I’d thought it would help, I’d have done it years ago. Where are you going in such a hurry?

SHERLOCK  
I’m meeting John at one of his monthly outreach surgeries.  
(Pats his pocket)  
He noticed his gun missing this morning and assumed, correctly, that I’d borrowed it for a case. He gets rather anxious when working in this part of town and so requested its immediate return.

MYCROFT  
And you were happy to oblige?

SHERLOCK  
There’s a shop just up from the Salvation Army. Best lamb vindaloo North of the Thames. The owner’s fond of me; I got him off some possession-related charges.  
Besides. I’m trying to be on my best behaviour.

MYCROFT  
Clearly evident by the way you’ve decided to disregard the “no firearms” provisions of your recent emancipation.  
(SHERLOCK waves this off dismissively)  
And by ignoring your restrictions on taking unsanctioned cases.

MYCROFT is having trouble keeping up to SHERLOCK and wincing slightly.

SHERLOCK  
How’s your back, brother dear?

MYCROFT  
Still on the mend. 

SHERLOCK  
Well, it’s only been a few weeks. Give it time.  
(Pauses, turns to MYCROFT)  
Why are you here? Must be important. You actually got out of the car.

Paused in front of boarded-up store-front. Window is papered over with newspapers. Two of the readable headlines are: “Vatican denies allegations” and “Child-star one of cameos in upcoming 007.”

MYCROFT  
To remind you that we actually had a meeting this morning to discuss the sanctioned cases that I am permitting you to work on. Sherlock, you have been ignoring my calls all week.

SHERLOCK  
I always ignore your calls.

They continue walking, initiated briskly by an annoyed SHERLOCK.

MYCROFT  
I also have further information regarding that person of interest we’ve discussed.

SHERLOCK  
Oh, my stalker? I’m not really interested. And I’m not your puppet, Mycroft. I thought I made that clear the last time we...

As they approach doors, JOHN exits and notices them. SHERLOCK pauses close to him and covertly passes over the gun, which JOHN hides in his jacket.

JOHN  
(Quietly)  
Thanks. You git.  
(To MYCROFT, brightly)  
Hello there. How’s your back?

MYCROFT  
(Scowling)  
Fine. Thank you.

JOHN  
I was about to get lunch. You two want to join me?

MYCROFT  
(Scolding quietly)  
Meeting, Sherlock.

SHERLOCK  
Curry?  
(To JOHN only, who nods)

MYCROFT  
Ugh. Why do you always have to be so difficult?

The three begin walking towards the nearest crossing. MYCROFT pulls out his phone and types on it.

MYCROFT  
(Texting)  
I will decline, Dr Watson. I’m sensing that my efforts today are wasted. It seems my brother is still irritated with me, likely due to my comments during our last get-together. 

SHERLOCK  
(Sing-song)  
And there is a whole childhood in a...

JOHN  
You know, it truly is a beautiful day for a stroll. Blue sky, little fleecy clouds. Exhilarating nip in the spring air, wouldn’t you say?

SHERLOCK  
This from the man who was reluctant to work in this part of town without his gun.

MYCROFT  
As delightful as strolling to lunch sounds, I really must pop off.  
(Looking around impatiently for his car to return)  
Before I go, Sherlock, would you kindly have a look at this photo we were able to procure?

SHERLOCK  
(Darkly)  
I’m about to lose my patience, brother mine.

JOHN has stepped ahead to press the corner crosswalk signal. A small group of young men are loitering there. Circus-like trucks are moving in slow procession down the street.

In opposite direction, blurred in background behind the Holmes brothers, SUV pulls up half a block away. Another group of men get out and begin walking quickly toward them. 

MYCROFT  
(Looking at his phone)  
It’s of your stalker, as you so dramatically put it. I think you will be interested, as she closely resembles a former acquaintance. You may also be interested to hear what I’ve recently uncovered about another favourite adversary of yours... 

Unseen by MYCROFT, SHERLOCK makes a “blah-blah-blah” gesture to JOHN, who snickers.

MYCROFT (Focused on phone) Apparently, he was a... 

SHERLOCK (Exasperated) Why can’t you ever just text me... 

Without actually looking at each other, MYCROFT tries to hand SHERLOCK his phone; SHERLOCK waves him off impatiently.  
Their hands collide clumsily and MYCROFT accidently drops the phone to the ground. Both scowl at each other. 

Blurred in background behind MYCROFT, the succession of large trucks pass slowly: “The Dancing Demons Carnival”. Logos of dancing/juggling stick-men with garish faces.

MYCROFT begins to bend over and grimaces. SHERLOCK sighs, rolls his eyes, stoops to get it for him. MYCROFT chuckles.

SHERLOCK  
(Muttering)  
Oh, shut-up, Mycroft.

As SHERLOCK starts to rise, MYCROFT sees something past him and his gaze snaps to attention. 

Slo-mo/muted sound: His hand shoots out and grips SHERLOCK’S head, preventing him from standing.

A number of gunshots ring out. Still crouched, SHERLOCK whips head around, and the men behind him comes into focus; charging toward them, guns drawn. 

Real-time: MYCROFT gasps, clutching arm, staggers forward. SHERLOCK rises, catching him, and drags him back across the sidewalk into a storefront alcove. 

JOHN follows, ducking. He takes MYCROFT from SHERLOCK, laying him on the ground, tending to him. 

SHERLOCK reaches across into JOHN’S coat, grabbing gun and flattens himself against the alcove wall, readying to fire.  
Group of men in view past the edge of the wall, still coming toward them. JOHN and SHERLOCK exchange a tense look.

The group runs right by them. SHERLOCK hesitates, watching, then leans out, pointing gun. 

The men continue down the street, chasing the other group that had been loitering at corner. More gun-shots heard.

SHERLOCK stands, whipping head around, surveying scene. A car alarm wails and someone on the street screams. He begins to move as if to pursue.

JOHN  
Sherlock...

SHERLOCK  
(To himself as view pans  
around scene)  
Black SUV. Four assailants. Three targets on foot. All heading east. eight... no, nine shots fired...

JOHN  
Jesus. Sherlock, your brother...

SHERLOCK  
(Without looking over)  
I think we’re fine, John. See to my brother’s arm, will you? Make sure he doesn’t go into shock, he’s not used to fieldwork. I need to follow—

JOHN  
(Shouting at him)  
Sherlock!!

He turns, looks. JOHN kneels above MYCROFT, who lies on pavement, coat opened. Arm is bleeding. So is chest. 

ANDERSON (faint V.O.)  
One hole, or two?

A large blood pool is spreading beneath MYCROFT’S body. JOHN’S face is grave.

SHERLOCK freezes.

FADE OUT.

(TITLES)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was saying, dialogue is SO much more appealing to write than prose. In the brevity of credible dialogue, one has to corral the soul of wit... to trim oneself to the bare bones of the matter... to get right and precisely to the point. The only difficulty, is that, in order to do it, you always need another person—
> 
> (A Scowrering—I mean, a SCOWLing woman enters from stage left)  
> “Pike. Get it through your thick skull. Nobody wants to listen to any more of your pompous narra—
> 
> Ah, Fury! Right on schedule. Give me ONE last chance. A fan’s speech should exceed her task, or what’s a meta for...?
> 
> “You are a twisted, deranged, evil little shit-disturber that only messes with people." 
> 
> So you say. If only there were some kind of public record of all my time on Twitter and AO3 to verify the truth of that matter. Oh. Wait a second...
> 
> "There is NO POINT TO—“
> 
> Since you already know most of the context, Fury, I can tell YOU the point in five words.
> 
> “I DON’T C—“
> 
> Darmok. And Jalad. At Tenagra. 
> 
> (Pike smiles. Her arms wide.)
> 
> (Fury punches her, right in the comments. Okay; this is just a guess, since this whole post is going up all at once. But I bet it’s happened already... it does EVERY time I post something. And it’s not a good idea. I’d advised her to wait until the end, and now her knuckles are bleeding because I am DALE PIKE, the Iron Dike*.)
> 
> *Yep, Valley of Fear... I see you, Savvy. And you just keyboard smashed, didn’t you?


	5. Scene Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't decided this for yourself yet; I might suggest reading the script and end notes narrative separately from each other if you want to enjoy each as a distinct entity. (Although they do complement each other nicely in places, it may feel annoying to pop back and forth between mindsets.)
> 
> I think here: up top, I may occasionally comment on the script itself, while leaving the circumstances of its construction to the end notes. For example: I've just discovered that I sometimes run into formatting quirks when copying the text (in columns) into AO3. If I miss any corrections, and it appears silly in places... apologies.
> 
> This was one of my favourite scenes. I loved writing in the iconic Mary Poppins reference. And the Pink Floyd, of course.

4\. EXT./INT. WATSON TOWNHOUSE – DAY

Black car arrives at front, MYCROFT gets out. Walking very stiffly, he slowly ascends front steps. Knocks on door.

SHERLOCK answers, a bright-red-haired child tucked under his arm. The brothers look surprised to see each other.

MYCROFT  
Are you... babysitting? 

SHERLOCK  
What happened to your back? 

MYCROFT  
A slight injury.

SHERLOCK  
Treadmill-related?

MYCROFT  
Work-related, I’m afraid.

Child squirms and SHERLOCK sets her down so she can toddle back into the house. The younger brother waves the elder in, and both move through to kitchen/living area. She returns to playing with tongs while SHERLOCK stirs malodorous-looking pots on the stove. There are peas all over the floor. 

News on the television showing a newly-breaking story of a terrorism attack on a government building.

REPORTER  
...from the scene unfolding here at Smith Square where we’ve learned that police have cordoned off...

SHERLOCK  
I assume you’ve also come looking for John today... probably to conspire with him about me for some reason. You and I are both out of luck this afternoon: he’s late from his surgery.

MYCROFT  
I see. And Mary...?

SHERLOCK  
Had a desperate need for some birthday party supplies. And she’s gone to China for them, apparently.  
(Reaches for tongs)  
Though Abby and I have been getting on fine, haven’t we, Abby? 

ABBY  
(Wearing SHERLOCK’S goggles around neck)  
Moo-cow.

SHERLOCK  
Yes, I hope she remembers milk too.  
(Glances into pot and mutters)  
Lactase will work in a pinch.

Behind SHERLOCK’S back, ABBY climbs up onto a dining chair and teeters precariously.

MYCROFT  
(Begins to move toward her)  
John and Mary trust you with their curiously-gingered progeny? 

SHERLOCK, while swirling and examining some liquid in a glass, catches ABBY from falling without looking. Plunks her back down in front of the television. He removes the goggles and puts them over his own head.

SHERLOCK  
She’s extremely logical in her own way; her behaviour’s quite simple to predict. I’m sure John would have complete confidence in my ability to mind her.  
(Beat)  
Though Mary did say not to mention it...

MYCROFT chuckles, glances at television again. Several people in the anxious crowd behind the reporter are wearing farm animal costumes. 

The reporter’s leather coat (not a costume) is a (supposedly trendy) bovine-looking black/white spotted pattern.

REPORTER (in background)  
...actions believed to be by a radical protestor. We are getting word that police are detaining a Mr Mohammad Edalji of...

ABBY  
(Points to spotted coat)  
Moo-cow.

SHERLOCK  
(To MYCROFT, stirs pots)  
You may as well just tell me directly.

MYCROFT  
Beg your pardon?

SHERLOCK  
Whatever you were going to filter through John to me. He’s not here. I am. Or at least make yourself useful and filter this.

SHERLOCK tries to hand MYCROFT a smaller pot and a sieve and when his brother refuses to help, he does it himself.

MYCROFT  
I know you don’t trouble yourself with this sort of thing, but I was going to inform John that you have someone closely monitoring your activities, brother-dear.

SHERLOCK  
Other than you? I have several stalkers. Anderson really hates it when I call him that, though. 

MYCROFT  
Not your garden-variety. And she appears to a rather intimate knowledge of us.

SHERLOCK  
Of us? Rules out the media-driven ones; most people don’t know about you. Likely someone in law enforcement or government then. Surely you can figure it out... 

MYCROFT  
I’m not asking you for assistance. In fact, I’d prefer you leave the matter to me. It seemed prudent, however to warn you to be on your guard and report anything unusual.

ABBY  
Boom!

Both men attend her, then the television. Replayed images of an explosion’s smoky aftermath, then reporter in the leather coat is interviewing a witness in a very plaid shirt.

PLAID  
...terrible, just terrible, what with these radicals thinking they can just take over our streets...

ABBY  
(Points to jacket and plaid)  
Moo-cow! Fahmeh-i-the-dell!

MYCROFT  
(Sighs, reaches for remote)  
Do you really think this is appropriate for a toddler?

SHERLOCK  
I don’t see why not. She appears to have a good grasp of the situation.

MYCROFT changes channel until it lands on Mary Poppins: scene with Dick Van Dyke as BERT, busking to the crowd in the park. As he is doing this, SHERLOCK furtively opens a cabinet with a key, removes JOHN’S gun and hides it in his coat that is draped on a chair.

BERT  
...all right, ladies an' gents! Comical poem! Suitable for the occasion, extemporized and thought up before your very eyes!

MYCROFT  
(Turning back to SHERLOCK)  
Can’t seem to turn on the telly these days without seeing something violent.

BERT  
(Faintly, in background)  
...the Constable’s... respon’stable...

SHERLOCK  
(Disdainfully)  
Oh, yes, the media are doing a terrific job of fear-mongering. Ratings must be through the roof! 

BERT’S one-man busking show continues in background, to ABBY’S delight.

MYCROFT  
That’s not what I meant. There truly has been an increase in terror-related incidents. Gang warfare is on the rise. There are many who feel that we need to get this country under control.

SHERLOCK  
(Snorts)  
And, if those people have their way, the next law aimed at everyone’s civil freedoms will surely pass with no dispute.

MYCROFT  
You know, you could take my offer and lend your talents to preserving national security, rather than mocking it.

SHERLOCK  
I’m not a cog in your machine, Mycroft. I solve puzzles; I don’t spy on my fellow citizens. 

MYCROFT  
Say what you like about Bill 101, it would make certain security processes run smoother. Not to mention delivering justice, when required...

SHERLOCK  
(Irritation growing)  
You already secretly play fast and loose with habeas corpus, Big Brother, do you really think our government needs legal extensions of that ability? Is that justice?

BERT (in background)  
Wind’s in the east. Mist coming in.

MYCROFT  
Melodramatic, Sherlock.

BERT  
...like something is brewing, about to begin.

SHERLOCK  
Orwellian.

MYCROFT  
You know, as well as I do...

BERT  
Can’t put my finger on what lies in store...

SHERLOCK  
Draconian.

MYCROFT  
...sometimes the ends do justify the means.

BERT  
...but I feel what’s to happen... all happened before.

The brothers scowl at each other. On the television in the background between them, the dog growls and barks.

BERT  
I’m sorry! Where was I?

Faint sounds of Van Dyke’s clownish jig as MARY and JOHN are heard coming in the front door, arguing in hushed tones.

JOHN  
...know what he’s like! What if he didn’t want to look after her? He could’ve gotten bored and just taken her out on a case! 

MARY  
Give him some credit, he’s not stupid! Besides, I need to finish the party desserts and thought I’d only be gone twenty minutes...

SHERLOCK  
(Peeks out into hall)  
Oh, John, honestly! It’s merely a matter of observation and anticipation. She rubs her left eye first when experiencing fatigue, prefers Wind in the Willows to Paddington, and will eat peas if you just let her do it with the tongs. I have five experiments running right now and only two of them involve your daughter.

ABBY  
(in background)  
Want pudding!

MYCROFT  
(in background)  
How can you have any pudding if  
you don’t eat your meat?

MARY  
Sherlock, I went to three stores and would you believe that nobody had gelatin in stock? Then there was a disruption on the Tube...

JOHN  
(Pokes around the pots)  
Oh, so “experiments” is what happened to our kitchen?! What on earth are you doing?

SHERLOCK  
I’m testing the rate of haemoglobin dissociation in various media... 

JOHN holds up a pot of gooey red substance and raises an irritated eyebrow.

SHERLOCK  
Not that one.  
(Licks the spoon)  
That’s my gelatin-free strawberry glaze.

MARY  
(Chuckling, pats JOHN)  
Well, now I’ve seen everything. See, husband? Nothing to worry about.

MYCROFT  
I assure you... the Holmes Brothers are not completely inept when it comes to childcare. Why, I am likely the main reason that my brother is still alive.

SHERLOCK rolls his eyes.

FLASH RETURN TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive a brief digression that is totally unrelated to Sherlock at this point in the narrative. I’m sure you’ll see the connection immediately, but know that, in the early spring of 2015, I hadn’t seen it yet. 
> 
> There is a reason for the one Buffy-verse poem in my collection here on AO3. Yes, I am a huge Joss Whedon fan, though I’m sad to say that I came to it on DVDs and later than the Browncoats Era. I once read an article (can’t find it now) that said something like, “Moffat the Brain of All Geekdom, while Joss is the Soul”. It’s a good analogy, and I get a kick of watching Moffat always come 2nd like this. Hehee. Dork. He deserves it though: Joss never fires on his own troops.
> 
> I consumed Buffy, Angel and Firefly (all worth your time if you never have ventured there yet) in my post-grad days with my best friend. We had formerly been roommates (in my country, that’s what we call flat-mates). I was a pretty shy and buttoned-down sort; had been raised fairly sheltered in a rural town, in a conservatively-skewed family. She was a bit of a wild city girl that got me in all kinds of trouble in university and beyond. 
> 
> One night, early in our acquaintance and after a few too many drinks, she made a pass at me. I was not even sure she remembered it afterward, and I kept a stiff upper lip about the whole thing because I didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. I loved her as a friend, but the door to my locked room just didn’t swing that way, of course. I was bound for legal marriage and baby-making. 
> 
> We’d only lived together for a year, and have since meandered in and out of each’s respective cities and lives. I missed her when we were apart and felt happier when we were together. She was probably the first person in my life that I found it easy to be myself with. Like coming home.


	6. Scene Five

5\. EXT - LONDON STREET (NEAR EDMONTON GREEN) – DAY 

SHERLOCK frozen, realizing severity of his brother’s injury.

JOHN  
Mycroft! Can you hear me? Don’t try to move!

SHERLOCK drops to his knees beside them. JOHN has rolled MYCROFT slightly to stuff his jacket beneath his back, before returning him fully supine and opening his shirt, revealing the chest wound. 

POV SHERLOCK: sounds and background begin to seem distant, slowed. The blood on the sidewalk stains his knees. MYCROFT looks at him, breathes shallowly. 

JOHN  
Phone. Now!

SHERLOCK pats distractedly over himself, fumbling as if he doesn’t know which pocket it’s in. 

JOHN grabs SHERLOCK’S scarf and presses it and SHERLOCK’S hands down over the chest wound. He reaches into SHERLOCK’s breast pocket and grabs phone, dialing 999. 

JOHN  
(from SHERLOCK’S POV, sound fades in/out)  
...police and ambulance. I have a man with a gunshot wound to the... I’m a doctor; I’ll do my best until they arrive, but hurry!  
...ore Street at Shrub...  
(To SHERLOCK)  
...we’ll need to pack the exit wound quickly. Keep pressure on, okay?! Do you know his blood type?

SHERLOCK  
(Somewhat slowly)  
AB. Positive. I... I think.

JOHN  
(Repeating into phone)  
AB Pos; so anything’ll do, which is good...  
(As if to self)  
...we’re going to need lots. 

JOHN hangs up phone and gets to his feet, glancing back the half-block towards the surgery.

JOHN  
Sherlock, I need to get a kit. I won’t be half a minute...

SHERLOCK  
(Flat voice)  
What do I do?

JOHN  
(Mouthing words/MYCROFT-V.O.)  
Don’t go into shock. Obviously.

SHERLOCK blinks and gives his head a small shake.

JOHN  
(In own voice, fading in)  
...I’ll be right back. Hold that tight. Hold it!

JOHN sprints back toward clinic doors.

SHERLOCK  
(To no one)  
What do I do?

He looks down at his brother. MYCROFT’S head tilts slightly toward him but eyes are unfocused. 

MYCROFT  
(Faintly)  
...little brother.

SHERLOCK  
(Blinks rapidly several times,  
as if in surprise)  
Mycroft, it’s me. I’m... I’m here. I’m right here. It’s alright... Mycroft?

MYCROFT is dead.

Distant voices echo, like whispers, slightly overlapping:

MRS HUDSON (V.O.)  
Family is all we have in  
in the end. 

SHERLOCK (V.O.)  
Do you ever think there’s something  
wrong with us?

MOLLY (V.O.)  
Without the shock, you’re  
going to feel the pain. 

MYCROFT (V.O.)  
All lives end. All hearts are broken.

SHERLOCK opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

TODDLER (Faint V.O.)  
Mikey.

FADE TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once initiated, I read a lot more Sherlock Holmes in general and "TJLC" stuff in particular, (Mycroft’s quote in T6T, “all the best secret societies have acronyms” is likely a shout-out to ‘The JohnLock Conspiracy’) most of which seemed to be on Tumblr, though Reddit had a bit too (and 4chan had the making-fun side of things). I never had an account on any of these and was a bit baffled on how Tumblr worked, so this was just reading, not interacting. If you’ve tried to navigate it, Newbie, I’m sure you agree; it’s hard to get the full context when you’re stepping in mid-stream as a tabula rasa. I’ve been kicking around for 5 years now and can’t know much more than about 7% of what’s probably out there, but I suppose one’s rate of consumption is inversely proportional to the fullness of one’s offline life. People who are hard-core into-it expect you to know as much about it as they do; as well as know the history of the Fandom, its foibles and its Rules. I don’t know all its rules, and I’m a tried-and-true rule-breaker (though mostly unwittingly). I will tell you my own though... a bit later on.
> 
> Here’s my advice: conserve your energy and hone in on the stuff that interests you most. Most of it is minutiae; it’s interesting, but you don’t need it to get the whole picture. (And it’s fun: like a free hour in The Ball-Pit... wheee!) Here’s some of mine from just a general google search: “Moriarty” is Irish in origin, a derivative of “Murtagh”, and it means “Navigator”. Is that important? Mmm... no, I don’t think so. I do see how it could really fit well with the purpose of Moriarty’s character in this modern-day rendition of Sherlock, but it’s a small point and I don’t know if Mofftisson* actually meant it that way, or if it was just a coincidence.
> 
> *Brief aside: A lot of us have abbreviated the writing team to “Mofftiss”—myself included—and we shouldn’t. Thompson wrote some of the best stuff, like the Blind Banker, (which is quite important for setting the whole show’s cipher.) We might see Thomps make a comeback in the next Series and, even if not, deserves more credit anyway. Sometimes I wonder if Steve Thompson is a real person, or if his online bios are fabricated. I could go either way on this theory, but (on the likelihood that they are a real person) I’m just going to leave it at that.


	7. Scene Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love onions. Onions and a stiff upper lip.
> 
> Oh, and I'd forgotten about the resident rodent! Ha ha... Basil of Baker St? Or Basil of Fawlty Towers fame? Distant cousins, I'd expect.

INT. 221B BAKER STREET – DAY 6

SHERLOCK, seated cross-legged on his bed in a t-shirt and pajama pants, fingers to temples and deep in mind palace. 

Snaps out of it to sound of dish breaking in kitchen.

MRS HUDSON (O.S.)  
(Emotional)  
For God’s sake!

He comes out into kitchen, wrapping his dressing gown around him. Sees her sweeping up broken china, while crying into her sleeve. A bag of groceries is on the counter.

SHERLOCK  
What the devil are you...

MRS HUDSON  
Oh, did I wake you? I’m so sorry, Sherlock. Thought I’d get your breakfast ready...

She rubs her face, trying to hide tears and return to tasks.

SHERLOCK  
That’s really not necessary...

MRS HUDSON  
...what with you all out of sorts. Lying about half the morning; nothing decent in the fridge to eat. It’s okay, dear, I know you’re not yourself right now. 

He gives a quizzical look but she doesn’t notice and absent-mindedly empties dust pan into frying pan on stove. 

SHERLOCK notices but says nothing; behind her back, he quietly removes pan and replaces with another. 

SHERLOCK  
Is there coffee?

MRS HUDSON  
Tea’ll be ready in a minute dear. A balm for the soul, that’s what my mother used to say. I know the world looks bleak, Sherlock, but don’t despair. Time heals all wounds.

She puts the electric kettle on stove burner, which he immediately corrects without her noticing.

SHERLOCK  
Quite right.

MRS HUDSON  
John rang earlier; said he’d be by to collect us and we might as well all share a car. My stars. He thought you’d told me; why didn’t you, Sherlock?! I’d have had a few days to get my dress cleaned!  
(Admonishing tone, immediately  
followed by sympathy)  
Oh, don’t listen to me. He was your only brother. I can’t imagine what you must be going through. 

SHERLOCK  
Mrs Hudson, you really don’t...

MRS HUDSON  
Thought I’d make you a nice omlette, luv. Or would you rather have this in some hash? I bought potatoes...

She places an onion on the cutting board. Then the kettle boils and she grabs it.

MRS HUDSON  
Oh, that was quick! I must have boiled it already... Never mind. Where was I?

Puts the whole kettle straight into the sink without making tea and turns to chop the onion, placing the wrong edge of the knife downward. SHERLOCK grabs her hand and intervenes just in time.

SHERLOCK  
(Gently)  
Mrs Hudson, please. Why don’t you just sit down and... um... we’ll have a chat?

He guides her to his chair and he sits in JOHN’S.

MRS HUDSON  
I expect you want to talk about it, don’t you? I can hardly believe it myself! I keep expecting him to walk through that door and twirl that brolly of his around. It just makes me see red that these hooligans are taking over our city! I’m glad the coppers got the shooter, Sherlock, I hope they put him away ‘til he rots!

SHERLOCK spends a cursory moment, listening and nodding sympathetically, then goes off to chop the onion.

MRS HUDSON  
I’d give anything to make things right again for you, dear, I truly would. You and your poor parents. Why, it reminds me of my own little...

She dissolves into tears, buries face in hands, weeping. SHERLOCK rolls eyes to himself, but reserves comment. He pours her tea and hands her a cup before returning to the onion. She collects herself and sips it.

MRS HUDSON  
Ah well. Carry on, then. He’ll be dearly missed. Though I have to say, Sherlock, not to speak ill of the dead, but your brother was a bit of an arsehole. 

SHERLOCK grins to himself, then sniffs and blinks: the onion getting to him. Steps are heard on the stairs.

MRS HUDSON  
Oh, John! So glad you’re here.  
(Leans forward, whispers)  
He’s in a bit of a state.

JOHN turns to SHERLOCK; catching him wiping his eyes on the back of his wrist. Approaches him with concerned expression. 

SHERLOCK scowls, indicating the onions and scrapes the cutting board contents into the frying pan.

JOHN  
(Places SHERLOCK’S phone on the table)  
This was on the stairs. Did you leave it there?

SHERLOCK  
Must have dropped it.

JOHN  
(Nods to MRS HUDSON)  
Thought you were at your parents’ until she phoned me.

SHERLOCK  
I was. Came home. Too many morose relatives about for my liking. And I believe Uncle Rudy now has my room until the end of the week. Fancy some breakfast?

JOHN  
Erm. Uh... yeah, alright.

JOHN sits at table while SHERLOCK cracks and whisks eggs.

JOHN  
Listen... you can still bunk with Mary and I if you like.

SHERLOCK  
Why would I bunk with anyone?

JOHN  
Well, you know. If you, erm. Felt the need.

SHERLOCK  
(Eyes narrow slightly)  
Why would I feel the need?

JOHN  
(To himself)  
Right then.

MRS HUDSON  
(Pulls a face)  
Ooo, this tea hasn’t steeped nearly long enough yet.  
(Getting up)  
I guess I’ll go get ready. Sherlock, you call me if you need anything, dear.

Silence for a few moments between the two men as SHERLOCK dumps breakfast onto a plate and delivers in front of JOHN. 

SHERLOCK then takes a piece of cheese and gets down on all fours near the wall.

Mouse-hole POV: SHERLOCK loads a mouse-trap.

JOHN  
(Indicating food)  
Aren’t you going to...

SHERLOCK  
Not hungry.  
(Awkward pause)  
I guess you ate at home.

JOHN  
Well, actually...

JOHN picks at the food, as if not sure if he should eat in front of SHERLOCK, who opens laptop and starts working.

JOHN  
Greg called me back in for a few more details on the statement.  
(Waits for response. Continues when he doesn’t get one)  
Uh... said he’d like to talk to you again too.  
(Beat)  
You know. When you’re up for it, of course.

SHERLOCK  
(Quietly calm)  
Makes no difference.

JOHN  
What are you looking at?

SHERLOCK  
Emails that some colleague of Mycroft’s must have forwarded to me before my brother’s accounts were all frozen. References to the recent stuff about Magnussen. 

JOHN  
I read about that in the papers! Amazing what they dug up on him... that he was actually an affiliate of that terrorist organization that used Moriarty’s image?

SHERLOCK  
(Neutrally)  
Mm-hmm.

JOHN  
Perks up the public opinion of you, though.

SHERLOCK ignores JOHN’S comment.

SHERLOCK  
Some references to a covert project of some kind. And a photo of a person of interest.

JOHN  
Person of interest?

SHERLOCK  
Someone my brother warned me about. Apparently, she has been surveilling us for some time.

JOHN  
Us? You and me?

SHERLOCK  
No. Mycroft and I.

JOHN  
Seriously? 

He shows JOHN the grainy long-shot of an attractive woman with dark hair, wearing sunglasses and a grey coat. The perspective makes it difficult to gauge her height. 

She looks familiar.

JOHN  
You’re not thinking that’s...

SHERLOCK  
Irene Adler. Bears some resemblance, though the picture’s poor. She would have better-than-average skills in this regard. And knowledge of us. But I’m not convinced it’s her. Seems a bit too tall... could be in heels, I suppose... 

JOHN  
Also, Sherlock, there’s something we never told you. She’s not in witness protection...

SHERLOCK  
No, obviously. Pretending to be dead is a much better cover. Trust me, I would know.  
(Ignores JOHN’S shocked look)  
If it is her, you can bet there’s a good reason for risking exposure...

JOHN reaches over, closes the laptop to SHERLOCK’S chagrin.

JOHN  
Take a day off, hmm? You’re winding yourself up and it’s obvious that this is all just to avoid thinking about what you don’t want to do.  
(SHERLOCK blanks him)  
Look, it’s okay to be anxious. Especially for having to do one under... these circumstances.  
(Continues to blank.)  
The speech. I know you hate making speeches.  
(Beat. Continues awkwardly)  
Well, don’t be nervous. You know what they say... just picture everyone in their underwear.

SHERLOCK frowns, then looks inwardly.

FLASH CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say: I was pretty impressed with the large commitment of time/effort many of the initial Sherlock theorists devoted to cracking a lot of the “code”, as well as the way that some (especially the loudest) could form the argument and deliver the evidence. I had noticed the bit of banter between the two lead characters, but figured it was just the usual off-handed conversational inclusiveness of which BBC is so fond and wouldn’t ever be more than that. The suggestion that this version of John and Sherlock would truly be a romantic couple is a revolutionary one, and even though I originally approached it with skepticism, the body of evidence certainly did seem to favour this. (youtube)
> 
> By 2015, there had already been a lot of online argument on whether or not TJLCers were nutters or not. But I liked seeing the deeper use of the writing devices that tricked—no, that’s not right—that LET the audience trick themselves. I had originally liked the Sherlock/Molly pairing and had started to write a story about them, but I’m someone who tries to weigh evidence objectively and the fate of Sherlolly was now as acrid as a black coffee, even with two sugars. But some people are unshakably attached to an idea, so I guess some earth had gotten scorched over this disagreement. I wouldn’t find out why for several years, but I was suddenly puzzled when I couldn’t find a lot of stuff online anymore, or get to the key players themselves, (in a way that I could dialogue with, anyway). 
> 
> I didn’t think I had a personal dog in this fight at the time, but became an ally to the cause because of the enormous potential I saw. There are a lot of little “tips of the hat” in Sherlock to the movie The Princess Bride (the cabbie’s battle of wits with poison, the damsel-in-distress reference, the dying twice; once fake, once real, etc.) My husband keeps bugging me to find the Inigo Montoya parallel. I don’t think there is one (yet?) but I do know this: the lowest-hanging fruit here is the Grandfather (Mofftisson) and Fred Savage (the audience). I’ll simplify: if done properly, Hartswood Films takes its international audience on a unforgettable adventure (*ahem* see graffiti on wall in TGG). At the beginning, most of this audience does NOT want “a kissing book”. In fact, in some countries, it’s downright illegal; you wouldn’t get it in the back door, let alone the front (hehee I did it again; but you’ll have to wait a bit for the second half of that context!) but it’s okay: here comes a benign, British, critically-acclaimed, PG-13 mystery series. Nothing to see here! Then they walk that audience a mile in those shoes, down a road with demons beneath, before pulling the reveal at the end. Yeah, some viewers are never going to be convinced (and good riddance to them). But the rational majority has fallen in love with the characters by this point and when the story gets to the kissing (or whatever), they understand why it matters and they say: “I don’t mind so much anymore.” Brilliant.
> 
> So, in 2015, there was a small but growing group of hopefuls that already understood the show on this fantastic meta level. There was only one problem.
> 
> Most of them were wrong too.


	8. Scene Seven

7\. EXT. PLAYGROUND. DAY 

YOUNG SHERLOCK, in undershirt and pants, surrounded by a group of larger, slightly older children, one holding his clothes. Tosses them into mud. All are taunting, jeering.

BULLY #1  
Who’s clever now, Freak?!

BULLY #2  
Yeah, think you’re clever, huh?!

As the group continues to threaten him, a teenage boy and a dark-haired girl walk by in distance and pause.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
You’re in for it now. That’s my brother and...

BULLY #1  
Oh, yeah? Bet we could still take the lot of you. I heard he’s a poofter anyway.

BULLY #3  
The whole family’s freaky. Did you ever hear about the...

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
Mycroft!

TEEN MYCROFT glances over for a moment, then turns toward girl, who is already retreating, and both hurry away.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
Mycroft, it’s me! Mycroft!

Bullies laugh and close in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we proceed further, a brief word about objective reasoning. For the pen to truly be mightier than the sword, objectivity must be the hand that wields it.
> 
> BBC Sherlock does a lot of the same trick that Doyle does—looks clever by leading you to the answer in the fashion that does Itself the most credit—but, I have to say, I do enjoy the way that it glorifies the logic-nerds of the world. Scientific inquiry and rational discourse are at the core of Sherlock’s arsenal, and this is why (despite his caustic edge) you trust him as a character. This is not someone that is going to judge you based on prejudice or supposition. He just deals with the data and this gives us the sense that he’s going to deal fairly. 
> 
> Many people—in fact, all of us probably do this to some degree—start with the answer that they like and proceed backward from it to define the question. In doing so, we tend to discard everything that doesn’t fit with our beliefs, in favour of all the data (pertinent or not) that does. This is not science. It’s opinion. And the internet is rife with opinion... even opinion disguised as science.
> 
> I’m sure there are tons of resources out there on how to critically examine an issue and formulate an argument, but I just happen to like Adam Nealy. This has nothing to do with BBC Sherlock, but I would recommend watching his youTube video on "Why the Katy Perry/Flame lawsuit makes no sense". In addition to being an interesting expose on copyright law (something fan-fiction writers also take to heart) this is a good example of a real Sherlockian at work, with the horse before the cart... first; what’s the data? What does it tell us? Then; what are the broader implications? Why does it matter? I also enjoy another video he’s done on how he attempted to learn to like CCM; a style of music that he disliked, but was curious to give it a chance and determine why. (If you’re sensing that some of these themes are going to be important, then you’re on the right track.) 
> 
> If there is to be a hero for our times, Sherlock Holmes is a good candidate. The internet’s increase in ability to share information has not resulted in an increase in the quality of information, as those of us who straddle this Internet Age remember. Prior to entering the Sherlock-verse, I had not spent a lot of time online, other than research and the cursory communications of one’s life. (I’m dating myself; but my first search engine of choice in middle school was Alta Vista... and although a lot of my friends jumped right on that ICQ-train in highschool, I was never much one for social media.) 
> 
> So when I began poking around in this particular milieu, I was Bambi on ice, despite already being in my thirties. The character of 'Oh!' from the animated film Home is extremely analogous to my online self (yep, I am squishy, purple and voiced by Jim Parsons). But there’s something advantageous in being uninitiated, Newbie, so enjoy this phase while it lasts. You see more, when you don’t know what it is that you’re supposed to be looking for.


	9. Scene Eight

8\. INT. YOUNG SHERLOCK’S BEDROOM – DAY 

TEEN MYCROFT appears in doorway behind YOUNG SHERLOCK, who is wearing a pirate costume over a real first-aid eye-patch and sulkily practicing violin. (Song is an amateurish version of Rameau’s Castor and Pollux – Act II.)

TEEN MYCROFT  
Oh, stick with something simpler. You’re butchering that opera.

YOUNG SHERLOCK scowls and continues haltingly without looking at him. A russet dog observes them from the bed.

TEEN MYCROFT  
(Entering room)  
They want to know if you’re coming down to dinner?

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
I didn’t say you could come in.

TEEN MYCROFT  
I knew you could handle yourself.  
(sighs when SHERLOCK returns to ignoring him angrily)  
I’m sorry, alright? You know I’m not a fighter. But don’t you think Mummy deserves a day in which at least one of her children is not in some kind of trouble?

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Quietly, narrows eye)  
They’d have thrashed you anyway.  
(Over shoulder, to MYCROFT)  
Do you know what this song’s about?

TEEN MYCROFT  
Yes, the requiem for the elder. Very dramatic, little brother, but we aren’t twins. Are you coming to dinner?

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Dismissively)  
You may go.

FLASH RETURN TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the spirit of the Princess Bride, I always saw the allure of the Sherlock mystery in a very familial sense. For example, you could watch it on the sofa next to your old-fashioned, slightly-bigoted father*... who’s a decent person, and probably wouldn’t want to kill or even fully disown their child if they found out they were gay, but just doesn’t have much knowledge or sensitivity about the issue either.
> 
> *Brief aside - in the EXTREMELY unlikely event that YOU, Newbie, are someone like my dad: I wonder how you stumbled in here; bet that’s a good story! Please don’t go away. I promise there will be lots of jokes to keep you interested; and the script on its own is totally cool and you have to be really close to it to smell the gay.
> 
> ** In the INFINTESSIMALLY small chance that you ARE my Dad... um. Wow. I guess Easter dinner is going to be a titch awkward this year, huh? Well, this isn’t how or when I would have chosen to tell you, but you might as well stay too.
> 
> Although many TJLCers have a reputation for being young SJWs who just want to get their rocks off by watching two dudes get-it-on (and, yeah, that’s true in some cases) I’m not one of them. I actually don’t really porn-it-up much in here and when I do, I am shyly classy. (Uh, Dad... you might want to avoid a couple parts of “Within the Narrative” and “Three Words in Sequence”... in fact; “People Will” is the best one for you to start with, okay?)


	10. Scene Nine

9\. INT. 221B BAKER STREET – DAY

JOHN  
Okay, I didn’t mean now.

SHERLOCK   
(Back from reverie)  
What?

JOHN  
I said “picture everyone in their underwear” and you’ve been blanking for almost a minute. 

SHERLOCK  
I was... rehearsing what I’m going to say about Mycroft.

JOHN  
(Chuckles)  
Well, keep it clean and kind. At least for your parent’s sake.

SHERLOCK  
(Smirking slightly)  
Oh, they’ll probably be the only other ones there to hear it.

JUMP CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this familial vantage point, it’s clear what an uphill battle the show-creators have before them. For the viewers that ARE aware, you should be respectfully true-to-life about the experience of being queer. For the viewers who are unaware but possibly able to be “won over”, you have to strike a VERY delicate balance of plausibility and tone. And here’s where M-Theory falls apart: firstly, the idea that “Mycroft-is-secretly-puppeteering-John-and-Sherlock-together-while-Moriarty-is-manuevering-evil-accomplice-Mary/”Moran”-into-marrying-John-so-to-break-Sherlock’s-heart-FOR-REVENGE” is a bit of a plot stretch even for someone like me (and I’m a Buffy fan), let alone a conservative late-middle-aged straight white man from a rural mining town. And it’s also totally falling for the Just-See-What-You-Want-To-See fallacy.
> 
> Worse is the intractable bitterness it created throughout the TJLC, surrounding the Mary character (and Molly, but we’ll get to what she is in a minute). This nastiness wasn’t going to help with mainstream understanding of the show. Throughout the show, we have been taught to implicitly trust Sherlock’s facial expressions. He does not ever lie to the audience... when he is lying to other characters; it is abundantly clear. This is why the “He-loves-Molly” debate fails. We never see Sherlock look at Molly with romantic love. Never. In TEH, he looks at her with extreme fondness, empathy and gratitude... a much more mature kind of love... but he does not want to be with her. Molly herself is also acknowledging this as well at this moment. They walk away from each other and do not go for chips.
> 
> TJLCers understand this concept when it is convenient, in the Molly case, but throw it aside when it comes to Mary. What we objectively see in Cumberbatch’s and Abbington’s performances in Series Three is total trust and acceptance of each other. And—even through her assassin-arc—we are meant to be guided by Sherlock’s feelings here. People tend to argue that she’s a manipulative and verbally abusive woman, but this is a bit inflated and Sherlock is a well-known dick of partner too, so the entire argument is weak tea. And yep, she shot him. On the superficial plot-level, this is a non-fatal liver shot and meant for its face-value explanation of buying her time. On the deeper level: this is how Sherlock feels because John CHOSE her. Because he did. (More on John later.) Why liver? Bile, obviously. Oh, the GALL of all those people saying “in the heart”, instead. Learn your anatomy. And Christ on a cracker, people... MOLLY is Sherlock’s Heart. (No, that’s not sarcasm aimed at Sherlolly-shippers. Molly represents Sherlock’s heart, as in: his compassion, humanity, and ability to be in touch with his feelings... this is why he “needed” her in TRF to defeat Moriarty. And—just while we’re here—Irene Adler represents his Lust... not the object of it, but the existence.)
> 
> Perhaps it’s a good time to mention that, yes: there are many character “pairings” this way in the show. Sometimes the bit-characters of the cases are in on it too: meant to draw a parallel for the viewer between the superficial case and the deeper story. Yes, BBC Sherlock is a massive treasure hunt. But no one needs outer limits online goofy Game shit to solve it... and you sure as hell don’t need Christian Slater’s jacket (I have NO idea why that was a thing!) Everything anyone needs is in the 13 episodes. (13.167, I guess, if you count the Mini-Ep on youTube). 
> 
> Knowing Doyle canon helps appreciate everything more, true; but you don’t even need that. At the time of this posting, however, I would advise you to read the Valley of Fear. For many reasons... one being to appreciate the insidious darkness of an autocratic fandom. I figured a lot of stuff out on my own, but I did get some enlightenment or verification from reading Tumblr theories, back in 2015-2016. I wish I could link you to my old favourites, but I dislike venturing there to separate the wheat from the chafe. It is an arduous task for me, but also an anxiety-provoking one. That place is a den of Scowrers.


	11. Scene Ten

10\. INT. CHURCH – DAY

SHERLOCK stands, with JOHN beside him, surveying the surprisingly large crowd that mingles prior to the beginning of the service. 

He looks to his left and notices MOLLY speaking with his mother. SHERLOCK rolls his eyes as she gives her a hug.

JOHN  
Wow. I didn’t think Mycroft had so many...

SHERLOCK  
(Eyes darting around)  
Colleagues. Sycophants, mostly. Although someone here is not what they seem to be...

JOHN  
Huh?

MOLLY and ANDERSON approach SHERLOCK somberly. 

SHERLOCK  
(Dryly)  
I suppose I’m going to have to endure some hugging now too?

MOLLY looks down shyly, but ANDERSON jumps in and encircles SHERLOCK in a back-thumping embrace.

ANDERSON  
(Emotionally)  
Just know that we’re all here for you, pal.

SHERLOCK nods, lips pursed in mock-seriousness as ANDERSON releases him and backs away to take a seat. SHERLOCK and MOLLY exchange a quick conspiratorial smile and then she stands on tip-toes to peck him quickly on the cheek. 

As she continues onward, SHERLOCK scans the crowd over her, as if looking for someone. MRS HUDSON approaches from the other direction and grabs his elbow.

MRS HUDSON  
Sherlock, dear. You said you were looking for anyone unusual...

JOHN  
You’re doing what? Now?!

MRS HUDSON  
Well, not to encourage your paranoia, but you see that woman over there? I overheard her saying that she was Mycroft’s first wife.

JOHN  
What, that one in purple?

SHERLOCK  
(Sighs)  
That’s Uncle Rudy.

MRS HUDSON  
(Nods toward dark-haired woman)  
No, no. The one in grey.

SHERLOCK  
That was his first wife.

JOHN  
(Shocked)  
He was married before?

SHERLOCK  
Twice. In a manner of speaking.  
(Nods toward a solemn-looking man with his parents)  
They never made it official though, even after the bill was passed. I think the writing was already on the wall before Mycroft changed jobs... 

JOHN  
I had no idea.

MRS HUDSON  
Oh, I see. So she split when she found out he was...

SHERLOCK  
...impossible to live with, yes. He lasted a bit longer the second time around though.

JOHN  
What? So, Mycroft was actually bi—

SHERLOCK  
Not that he called himself so. Mycroft couldn’t stand any label that implied he might be a normal human being.  
(Clearly fed up with this  
discussion)  
Honestly, you all fancy yourselves romantics and then reduce the complexities of love down the lowest common denominator of what fits into wh...

A handsome middle-aged man with official dress and bearing interrupts by stepping in and offering his hand to SHERLOCK. 

SHERLOCK  
(Shaking his hand)  
Harry. Didn’t see you come in.

As he comes into focus, recognizable as Harry MURTAGH, the Equerry from Buckingham Palace.

MURTAGH  
Quite alright. My sincerest condolences, Mr Holmes.  
SHERLOCK  
(To others)  
John, you remember Harry Murtagh. Mrs Hudson, this is one of my brother’s long-standing colleagues...

MURTAGH  
...friends, actually.  
(Conspiratorial smile)  
Grant me that status, Sherlock, you know what he was like to put up with. 

SHERLOCK grins, then MURTAGH tilts head to one side, indicating a desire to speak with him privately. They move off together, close to the podium. 

Nearby, SHERLOCK’S MUM is seen bustling and DAD sits quietly, looking numb.

MURTAGH  
(Quietly)  
Hardly the day for it, but I would like to speak with you at some point regarding the matter that I am certain has crossed your mind as well.

SHERLOCK  
Have you any idea who...?

MURTAGH  
No. But no one rises to the position your brother held without making a few enemies, right? 

SHERLOCK  
I’m assuming the emails must have come from you.  
(MURTAGH blinks impassively)  
Right. Mum’s the word. Well, if this “Project Prince” did have something to do with it...

MURTAGH  
(Face is still a mask)  
Did your brother ever speak with you about the Project?

SHERLOCK  
No. You know Mycroft was never much for sharing...

LESTRADE arrives, clasping SHERLOCK’S hand and MURTAGH silences himself, nodding to SHERLOCK as he steps away.

LESTRADE  
Sorry I’m... erm... late. Were you about to start?

SHERLOCK  
(Looking around)  
No, but now it looks like everyone’s expecting me to. No time like the present, I suppose.  
(Takes a deep breath)

LESTRADE  
(Claps him on shoulder)  
No worries mate. Just picture everyone in their undies.

SHERLOCK  
Why on earth does everyone think that would help?

LESTRADE shrugs and awkwardly takes a seat, noticeably well away from MOLLY. SHERLOCK stands at the podium, nods solemnly to his parents. Ruffles a couple of blank pages. The room quiets.

SHERLOCK  
Good afternoon, everyone. On behalf of my parents and our extended family, let me express our sincere gratitude for your support in this trying time. I’m certain my brother would be... touched by the number of compassionate friends showing their support today.

SHERLOCK’S eyes narrow slightly. His POV: view of the audience, “MURDERER” and question-marks in the air pop up all around the room. 

JOHN notices slight pause, furrows brow in concern.

SHERLOCK  
As I’m sure you can all imagine, we are reeling from the shock of this terrible tragedy, which borders on the unbelievable. All I can say at this point is that there is no person...

POV from behind SHERLOCK, scanning crowd, “data” on the various suspects popping up in “air-text” as he speaks. 

JOHN and MARY, who is bouncing ABBY on her lap, exchange a worried look that SHERLOCK is about to go off-the-rails.

SHERLOCK  
...who is immune to fate and that even someone with so carefully-governed a life as Mycroft Holmes can find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

SHERLOCK coughs and winces slightly, as if he finds this expression distasteful. Drums his fingers anxiously on the blank paper.

SHERLOCK  
But. We are here to celebrate my brother’s life.  
(Awkward cough)  
Mycroft Holmes, as you all know, excelled at every endeavor he attempted. He was a man who had dreams to carve his niche in the edifice of time. He was a gifted academic, an ambitious worker and a pillar of our nation’s civil service. He was also a steadfast friend, a devoted son and as a... brother... Mycroft was...

SHERLOCK pauses.

FLASH CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a few one-on-one “backstage DMs” (Twitter Direct Message) debates, I can tell you that most TJLCers are as entrenched in the Evil-Mary camp as Sherlollys are with Molly and some Normies are with “It’s-Just-a-Bromance!” What can I say? It’s ironic that the very people who built the foundations of the Conspiracy Fandom are the same ones responsible for the spores of toxicity that have since almost annihilated it; and I say that with sympathy for them, not resentment. It’s not their fault that Fandom groups have often (to quote Eurus) “evolved to attach an emotional significance to what is nothing more that the survival strategy of the pack animal.” 
> 
> The second thing that many theorists got wrong was the timing... although I get the sense that much of the Conspiracy is based in America and they aren’t as primed to recognize 5-act structure. Not that Brit TV always follows this, but Sherlock looks to be one that does, meaning the 4th act is the “dark night of the soul” leading up to the climax. (Sorry to anyone reading this who’s savvier and face-palming right now... yes, yes, I know it’s basic, but I didn’t take Lit Theory in school, so it’s newish stuff to me and I still think it’s cool. Skip ahead if you need to.) For more on the Hero’s Journey, you can try C. Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey, (or just google “Hero with a 1000 Faces” and get the gist... Lindsay Ellis is a great youTube teacher and funny as hell). Basically, these are the rules of story-telling. And you can play fast and loose with them, but you can’t disregard them altogether. It’s almost like humans are biologically wired to follow them; which makes sense from a developmental psychology point of view. Which is FASCINATING to me.
> 
> But, if you were really arrogant and almost-criminally insane in the way those two chuckleHead-writers are (my god, Newbie... have you ever watched Jekyll or League of Gentlemen?!) then HOW would you employ some subversion of expectation? In the Sherlock universe, you’d replay exactly what Doyle did, obviously. You’d “kill the show”. And have a grand old time making people think it wasn’t coming back.
> 
> Bottom line: I don’t think S4 is the end. It’s a beginning, of sorts. And a lot of the things that fans are clamouring desperately for have already happened, right before their eyes. 
> 
> Sorry, if you want more on that right this second, but timing is everything. In 2015, it would still be a long time before I figured out what the Fandom’s third mistake was.


	12. Scene Eleven

11\. INT. LONDON FLAT – DAY 

SHERLOCK (O.S. yelling)  
...an ostentatious, magniloquent stuff-shirt that should mind his own god-damned business!

SHERLOCK and MYCROFT (younger-looking, but nearer to present day, MYCROFT slightly plump) enter the small, messy flat.

SHERLOCK shrugs off the overcoat (not his) that is draped around his shoulders and flings it angrily onto a chair. 

MYCROFT, (wearing no coat) pauses in the doorway, reading the eviction notice that is tacked to the door.

MYCROFT  
Find another outlet for your boredom. Take up boxing... or board-games... or smoke something legal, for pity’s sake Sherlock, but if I catch you in this state again...

SHERLOCK  
(Picking up violin)  
You’ll what, Mycroft? What?!

MYCROFT  
I will turn you over to the police. I will tell our parents. And I will ensure a long stay in a rehab facility and a short leash on your civil freedoms. I should be doing that now, but I think we understand each other.   
(Taking out older-model mobile)   
That is, if you get your things packed by the time I’m finished this phone-call. I never want to repeat this conversation again.

SHERLOCK   
(Turns his back, lifts violin)  
That’s it. Throw your weight around, Big Brother.

MYCROFT  
Don’t make me order you.

SHERLOCK  
I’d like to see you try. 

He plays a grating, off-tempo version of Castor and Pollux. Suddenly he misses a few notes accidently and scowls, trying to put himself back on course.

MYCROFT  
(Scornfully)  
Oh, honestly. Even when you’re trying, you still never get that passage right. And don’t blame the instrument... though why you still use that old thing is beyond me... I think you’d best give up on the Rameau and stick to something simpler...

SHERLOCK lays the violin carefully on the couch, back stiff, then lunges at his brother. 

They scuffle for a minute, with MYCROFT only blocking or avoiding SHERLOCK’S blows until SHERLOCK pauses, tiring, obviously still high and off-balance. MYCROFT smirks and a newly-enraged SHERLOCK manages to get a choke-hold. MYCROFT then reaches up and grabs whatever he can to his advantage: the violin... striking his brother with it. 

As SHERLOCK reels, looking shocked, MYCROFT grabs him by the arm, twists him around, expertly pins him to the wall. SHERLOCK struggles futilely, grimacing, arm twisted painfully behind his back.

MYCROFT  
(Breathing only slightly fast)  
Well, little brother... see how there can be an advantage in a little extra weight? And in sobriety, don’t you think?

SHERLOCK  
(Strains, teeth clenched)  
Let me go.

MYCROFT  
(Calm voice)  
And let you do what? Hit me again and again until your arm gets tired?

SHERLOCK  
Break it then.

MYCROFT yields backward just enough to slam SHERLOCK harder into the wall, wrenching his arm further. He whimpers and shakes, looking definitely still-high and near to be sick.

MYCROFT  
(Suddenly angry unlike he has ever been seen, hisses quietly)  
Everything I do for you, and you just never get it. You stupid, selfish, insipid child. I meant what I said. I will not have our family ripped apart again.   
(Shakes SHERLOCK violently)

SHERLOCK  
(Weakly, almost fearful)  
Alright.

MYCROFT  
Alright, what?!

SHERLOCK  
I’ll stop. I’ll quit.   
(Winces again) 

MYCROFT lets him go and he slides to the floor, turning to lie against wall, clutching shoulder, gasping for breath. 

MYCROFT collects self, straightening clothing, dabs his cheek with his handkerchief. Grabs a towel from a chair, tosses to SHERLOCK, who makes no move to pick it up.

SHERLOCK  
You...  
(Swallows hard)

MYCROFT  
(Coolly calm)  
Are you hurt?

SHERLOCK lolls head against wall, looking skyward, eyes wet. 

MYCROFT  
Sherlock, a penny’s worth of free advice: don’t get in a fight with someone with more military training. Regardless of their exterior appearance.

SHERLOCK  
(Shakes his head, still   
breathing heavily, blinking)   
That... wasn’t all training. 

MYCROFT  
For God’s sake, you’re not about to cry, are you?! You’re fine...

SHERLOCK  
You can fight. You... can fight.

MYCROFT  
Obvi...

MYCROFT cuts himself off, realizing what SHERLOCK means.

The brothers regard each other for a moment, until SHERLOCK rests his head against his arm, covering his eyes.

MYCROFT  
(Walking away)   
You need to learn, little brother... sometimes we have to back down from the battles we can’t win.

SHERLOCK  
(To himself)  
Sometimes it’s not about winning.

FLASH RETURN TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to pepper this next bit with Sherlock clues for your interest, but please forgive the brief personal digressions; they are necessary context (and if you think they are superfluous to solving End Game... well. You’d be an idiot, and I’d bid you good luck.) 
> 
> Obviously, it wouldn’t take much swimming in these waters for a deeply closeted queer to have that glass-shattering epiphany moment. I remember it very clearly. My husband—who is wonderful and truly a best friend as well—was at work, and I was at home with our almost-three-year-old son. I was looking out the front window of our first home that we’d purchased together, the year prior. 
> 
> “Trinket”... as she was to be named (not yet, but soon) in that poem and the Dale Pike lexicon... had left a small gift in my garden to surprise me. It wasn’t my birthday or anything; we just both did this sort of thing randomly, occasionally... leaving each other mild-guffaws like cats proudly presenting dead mice. It had actually been sitting there for a day or two; I just hadn’t noticed it peeking between the late-spring leaves.
> 
> I felt a slow warm sweetness pouring over my heart, that can only be classified as one type of feeling. And realized that I always had that feeling when I thought of her. I had been having it for over ten years. I saw the thought forming on the horizon and tried to tell myself: “Don’t. Don’t think that. If you think THAT... you can’t un-think it...” But of course, it was already too late. And, in the span of one day of mulling it all over, I knew three things about my life with absolute certainty.
> 
> Perhaps you noticed Mrs Hudon’s comedic tip of the hat to the Kubler-Ross stages in her first scene with Sherlock in my script. This was meant to subtly prime the reader to realize that the arc of my episode would be Sherlock going through these stages of grieving for his brother. (Sherlock Holmes is always investigating life-shattering events for other people... I thought it would be interesting if he did a “case” where HE was the one experiencing the death of a loved one.) I did not add this in after my “queer-piphany”... like most of the delightful nuances in the script, they were already there, as if written by the undertow* of my brain, calling out to me.
> 
> *Brief aside: I would later learn that “Phones” in BBC Sherlock subtext lexicon symbolize love/”one’s heart”. Primarily, they mean romantic love, but note the use of the toy phone, then the phone’s role in Mycroft’s shooting in my opening scenes. Those were also NOT revisions. My subconscious was very clever. But my script isn’t real, so for your own purposes for the show, think back through the way this metaphor is used in the actual episodes (most heavily in ASiB).
> 
> I really am going to try to keep my personal story to the minimum required for understanding, as it entreats your time (and the full story is not your business). Basically, I did not do things in rapid fashion when I Came Out. In fact, I’m still coming out and, in some ways, will be doing so for the rest of my life. I spent almost a year considering the situation just privately to myself; bouncing from faith to doubt and back again... not wanting to be just rashly fooling myself into a drastic life-change over some stupid TV show symbolism. And I grieved the life I had thought I was living. And the stages (though psychologists tell us they can vary) were roughly as depicted here: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
> 
> One point is key. Through all of it—even the worst of it—I was always certain of one thing: I had immediately felt better as my new grieving self than I had as the former oblivious one (who had floundered for almost two decades with an anxious melancholy than defied diagnosis or effective treatment.) It was like my world finally made sense. I was whole. I was home, in Myself. It was what it was... and it was shit... and it. Just. Was.


	13. Scene Twelve

12\. INT. CHURCH – DAY 

SHERLOCK  
(Neutral tone)  
... an excellent example of everything that one could look up to. He will surely be dearly missed.

Awkward expressions in the crowd at his lack of warmth, but JOHN and MARY exchange a “that-wasn’t-so-bad” look.

CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Come-Rounders... forgive the repetition of the Fandom details throughout the next couple comments sections. Newbie missed this stuff, (just like how I missed the Great Battle of Top- vs Bottom-Lock before I got here. And, for the record: John's the Top. Duh.) Sorry, but chronologically is the best way to experience Dale Pickle, in any form.
> 
> Perhaps because my gay was “bigger on the inside” for such a long period, I was seeking to explore and connect with a fervor that is embarrassing to look back upon. My real life was quiet internal reflection, so my online life was a brass band. From capricious experiences as a Whoverse fan, I began to worry that Moffat would succumb to fan-service and make Sherlock’s arcs more like what so many fans wanted to see... one way or another. I wanted to send a message to the BBC that this would be disastrous for the clarity and moral continuity of the story... they needed to “stay the course”. (That curly twat will lay ground-work like a beaver and then just fuck off after some other shiny thing like a kitten with ADHD... it’s SOOO exasperating... *ahem ‘Time of the Angels’.)
> 
> I also wanted to send a message that a story like this needed to be simple and dignified in the end, for the sake of the people in the world who truly live the real-life experience. Forgive me, but I don’t think a clever queer story should be treated like a BBC diversity-ploy cash-cow. Straight people do not like being tricked in these matters. I think some part of the animosity that straight people have towards queers is due to a sense of “feeling duped”. Most of them (especially in less progressive countries) were not going to look at Lola, shrug, and stay in bed to get their Kinks on. 
> 
> A show that pulls the wool over people’s eyes would have to be very careful about HOW it removed the blindfold. My theory about a ridiculous S/J-ship “death”(and show hiatus) was a long-shot, true, but I’d always been really good at predicting what Moffat would do in Doctor Who, and when Abominable Bride tumbled out before me like a meta that I could have written nearly verbatim, I could see the hints of “this is gonna get woollier before it gets better”. 
> 
> I wanted MY moment (likely a metaphorical moment; we live hundreds of kilometers apart now, but...) where ma & pa lower the remote as the credits roll on S5... they look at me... they SEE me... and not mind so much. But if Moffat went tits-up on this, I wasn’t going to get my easy moment under the sun. Yes, these are ridiculous things to “worry” about, but Doctor Who fans can attest to this: he is a Mad Man that occasionally shits the bed, and needs reminders about who butters his bread. Also... when you put a lot of effort into a labour of love, whether it’s some fan art, or cosplay stuff, or whatever... you want to share it with people, so getting to use the script in a “heist” would be a fun bonus for me.
> 
> I knew that very little fan chatter actually makes it to the “Powers That Be”. Fan-mail is processed by PR companies, as are social media accounts. It is extremely unlikely that someone “unimportant” like us (forgive the assumption, Newbie) actually makes contact. Yes, it happens, but rarely, luckily and randomly. So I decided to be absolutely ridiculous in my audacity by using something that Moffat/Gatiss and their ilk would find funny: I would “ransom” my script. I would suggest that it was, in fact, one of theirs that had been “leaked” (so that someone at BBC might check to make sure that such a thing had not actually happened) and that I was threatening to make it go viral. The ransom notes would contain sub-textual “ahems” of my real messages: 1) Stay the course on Johnlock. 2) For crying out loud, DON’T KILL MARY. My first story posted here in AO3 (The One-Word Test) alludes to this, and that link was sent to as well. And I made the @ibelieveinPike twitter to promote my content.
> 
> I also sent it to Joss in a box decorated Firefly-style and on a USB key shaped like a strawberry and nestled in a bed of Play-Doh strawberries (just for shits’n’giggles... Mmm. Hello Grampa!) Of course, he immediately wrote back and now we’re besties, cuz THAT man can recognize talent. (ARG... this is sarcasm. It’s goofy, not bitter, so it may be hard to recognize around here, but think logically, for Pete’s sake. I only WISH I could hang with Shiny-J and play Mercutio in one of his garden parties. I can’t.) 
> 
> Unfortunately, it took me so long to tweak the whole plan and enlist family on British soil to roll it out that it was nearing the second half of 2016 and S4 was likely in the can by the time the packages would have made it to them. But I sent it anyway, in hopes it would make some small difference for S5... or just be a laugh for the Powers That Be at some future point.


	14. Scene Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG... I also forgot that I put the Queen in this! (Off screen, of course.)
> 
> Hot damn. I love this silly old thing.

13\. EXT. CHURCH/EDGE OF CEMETARY – DAY

Visitors leaving, SHERLOCK hand on DAD’S shoulder as he helps him get into car. MUM on the other side of vehicle.

MUM  
Sure you won’t come home with us? We’ll put Rudy on the lilo.

SHERLOCK  
I’m exhausted. I just want to crawl into bed. I’ll visit next weekend, I promise.

ANDREA passes by, behind car. SHERLOCK looks enthusiastically in her direction, causing a quizzical look from his mother as she gets into car. 

SHERLOCK  
(Brightly)  
Ahhh, Anthea. Let’s have dinner!

ANDREA gives him a knowing look as she continues onward. JOHN and LESTRADE approach and stand next to him.

JOHN  
Good speech. 

LESTRADE  
Almost felt like you, uh, knew him.

SHERLOCK  
Thanks. Got it from a book.

JOHN  
Shall we get going too? Let us at least get you something to eat.

SHERLOCK  
(Scans the departing crowd)  
Not much achieved today, I’m afraid.

LESTRADE  
In what?

SHERLOCK  
(Matter-of-factly)  
In finding my brother’s killer.

LESTRADE  
Christ. Sherlock, he’s in custody. Sean Bealy, the gang leader’s brother. You identified him. Ballistics matched his gun...

SHERLOCK  
...to the bullet in Mycroft’s arm.

LESTRADE  
Yeah, well. With the trajectory of the others that were fired, there’s enough evidence to suggest the kill-shot was his. That bullet wasn’t found and it likely isn’t going to be at this point.

SHERLOCK  
And you don’t find that a little odd?

JOHN  
(Quietly, rubbing face)  
Jesus.

LESTRADE  
Do you?

SHERLOCK  
Oh, for God’s sake, Grant... 

LESTRADE JOHN  
Greg! Greg.

SHERLOCK  
...it’s moments like this that explain how you were cuckolded by a P.E. teacher... 

LESTRADE  
Oi!

SHERLOCK  
Yes, I find it odd. It’s also odd that Mycroft Holmes had been doing fieldwork recently; enough to actually suffer an injury. It’s odd that the most protected man in England besides the usual tabloid-fare was not, in fact, able to be protected enough. It’s odd that two rival gangs had a shoot-out in broad daylight the moment that Mycroft just happened to be walking by... 

LESTRADE  
Whoa, whoa, whoa... I thought he went there, unplanned, just because that’s where you were...?

SHERLOCK flinches just perceptibly. JOHN lays a hand on his arm in “stand-down” fashion. 

SHERLOCK  
And nobody’s thinking to ask why?

LESTRADE  
(Hesitantly)  
Because he... he probably just wanted to see you.

SHERLOCK  
(Mutters)  
Oh, that would be the oddest thing of all.

SHERLOCK suddenly grins as he sees a line of cars pulling to a stop and reaches into his pocket to remove a cigarette and lighter. 

JOHN  
What the hell are you doing?!

SHERLOCK  
(Impishly, as he lights up)  
I was hoping I’d get to do this.

MURTAGH steps up beside them, lowering his phone, as if just finishing a conversation.

MURTAGH  
Well, Mr Holmes. It appears my former employer is able to make an appearance after all. And eager to speak with you, in honour of your brother’s service to his country. Apologies for the delay.

JOHN and LESTRADE turn to look and gawk at the motorcade.

JOHN  
Is that really...?

LESTRADE  
Holy Christ.

JOHN  
(Hushed, to SHERLOCK)  
Put that out, you cock.

MURTAGH steps forward and SHERLOCK follows him, broad smile, holding cigarette as if he’s momentarily forgotten about it.

SHERLOCK  
I am deeply honoured, Your Majesty... my goodness. Let me get rid of this...

Scene closes out on JOHN and LESTRADE’S astonished faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a rush of enthusiasm, for the upcoming Series 4, I later made a YouTube video to go along with my ploy that contained preemptive spoilers, but worded in subtext—and most things I DID guess right—and emailed or tweeted it to many people at Hartswood and BBC. The tone of the video was mostly impish... with a hint of “thank you for what you are doing” sincerity. It was also really amateurishly done; like a powerpoint pres. I still blush to think of it. (It no longer exists; I deleted it early in 2017, after S4 aired.)
> 
> I saw all of it as a shot in the dark. I hate to dash fans hopes on this, but famous people really really REALLY don’t pay attention to us. They can’t. There’s too many voices. (I would later know this for a fact: I became someone with a few hundred fanatical followers on Twitter and THAT got overwhelming and I tuned most people out.) So, I did not expect any of it to hit its mark, and knew that, even if it did, they certainly wouldn’t respond. It was a nudge-nudge-wink-wink... which, again, is cultural. On average, Brits and Canucks delight in this sort of thing while Americans demand to be acknowledged. Maybe if I was super lucky, “Dale Pike” would get a teeny tiny easter egg reference to it in one of the show’s jokes, but I doubted it, and that was fine.
> 
> Much later, in the aftermath of Series 4, the fandom got a pretty bad rap for “screaming into the void”... relentless messaging/tweeting at show creators, with nasty messages and threats. I’m afraid we’ll never convince Fury of it, but Pike actually wasn’t one of these; I’ve always had “rules of engagement” for my Alter Ego. Both before and after S4, I would only send multiple/persistent tweets or messages to large, PR-managed recipients, knowing that even many attempts would likely be totally lost in the vast noise of an account with millions of followers. If I tried to connect with smaller accounts of—dare I say it?—“ordinary” people, I would only try once, or rarely. No one ever told me to fuck off, but if they had, I would have done so immediately. And, of course, anyone can just block you on Twitter.
> 
> Before S4, I was still feeling pretty positive/hopeful about Sherlock, so my messages were more like “thank yous” and “good lucks”. After S4, of course, I was sassier, but mostly in a comedic criticism sense. When Pike wreaks havoc, she does it with all the bluster of Ferris Bueller combined with Paddington Bear (if Paddington had a bit of a potty-mouth to go with the Hard Stare). I suppose my Dr Who Lego meme (I’ve got a gun... you’ve got a time machine...) could be misconstrued as worse than it is, but to miss the Let’s-Kill-Hitler reference, you’d have to have a Dalek stuck in your cockles. 
> 
> I really hope I don’t have to explain the Louis Moffat exchange again. It was accidental and I’d told the first half of that story in a “not-fic-enough-fic” that got taken down from here. I guess if someone asks nicely, though, I could give you the more recent conclusion in comments below.


	15. Scene Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use Edalji and Anson in a few of my stories. They are a real-life case that Doyle himself solved. I figured this would eventually feature in the show somehow... a way of highlighting the "turn lies into truth" theme. 
> 
> But perhaps BBC doesn't want to mess with actual history.
> 
> And I guess I can kinda see that both ways now.

14\. EXT./INT. BAKER STREET – DAY

Car pulls up to curb in front of Speedy’s. SHERLOCK, MRS HUDSON, JOHN and MARY, carrying ABBY, get out. A man is standing at the entrance to flats. Although now in a different plaid shirt, he is recognizable as the witness from the earlier scene’s television broadcast. 

SHERLOCK  
(To JOHN)  
...for the last time, I do not need dinner...

PLAID  
Mr Holmes...

SHERLOCK  
(Eying door-knocker)  
Who straightened that?

PLAID  
I, uh... I used it. Mr Holmes, I was hoping...

JOHN  
Not today, sir. Come back next... actually, you know what? Just...

ABBY  
Fah-meh.

SHERLOCK  
You’re seeking services, I assume? Come in, we’ll just be a moment...

Rest of group begins to voice overlapping protests, but SHERLOCK unlocks door and waves a hand inward.

PLAID  
Oh, thank you Mr Holmes. I’ve come to you about last month’s attack on the Nobel House. I’m hoping you can set the police straight...

MARY  
(Looking very intense)  
Listen, pal. He’s not taking cases today.

ABBY  
Fah-meh-in-th-dell!

SHERLOCK  
Nonsense. Please come in.

JOHN looks at MARY with a gesture that says: You’d better go on without me. She does so, obviously reluctantly.

Upstairs: JOHN makes tea. SHERLOCK and PLAID sit in chairs.

PLAID  
...so I says to myself... they must be missing something, right?

SHERLOCK regards him steadily, fingers tented.

SHERLOCK  
So you saw this... Moe Edalji... that day during the attacks?

PLAID  
Plain as day... in costume, sure, like the rest of them, but I bumped into him at the bottom of the steps and recognized him, that’s for sure.

SHERLOCK  
And you saw him near the victims. During or after the stabbings?

PLAID  
Well. Was hard to see much of anything, after the smoke bombs went off. But I saw a blur of white.

SHERLOCK  
White?

PLAID  
Yeah. Like a sheep.

SHERLOCK  
And you had met him before this incident. And since.

PLAID  
(Seems taken aback)  
N... no, sir! Well, I’d read his website, before, sure. Clear sign he’s a nutter, there. Goin’ on about GMOs in the feed and...   
(He air-quotes)  
...in-humane practices... like we don’t take good care of our flock! So, there he is... month after month, spewing his messages of hate... even on the telly once, for Chrissakes! And then this happens, but don’t the cops pull him in twice already and still can’t find nothin’!

JOHN  
(Setting tea down)  
Well, Mr...

PLAID  
Anson. George Anson. 

JOHN  
Mr Anson, yes. I’m sure the police have done a thorough...

PLAID  
A little bird told me the police are bringing him in again this week. Could you see your way to helping them out with finding him guilty?

JOHN  
Well, actually, that would be a jury... 

SHERLOCK  
Why do you want him to be guilty?

PLAID  
I beg your pardon?

SHERLOCK  
You want this particular man to be guilty. Why?

PLAID  
(Incredulously, emotionally)  
Why? My own daughter was one of the ones that’s now got a gash this big...  
(Gestures on his own torso)  
... in her! Because he is guilty, Mr Holmes! He’s a freak!   
(Beat)  
Would you not want justice for your own flesh and blood?

JOHN  
Okay, well... we’ll...

SHERLOCK  
I’ll take the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, at face value, Series 4 in January of 2017 was confusing and terrible to most viewers of all stripes. The mainstream-scathing was almost as bad as the TJLC out-rage. T6T had frantic pacing and a cringe-worthy, cop-out ending. TLD had the underpinnings of a great meta episode, but it had a creepy vibe and the ending seemed to drive a final nail into TJLC theories. And The Final Problem? Hot mess.
> 
> In my mind, the pinnacle of the travesty was the stoking of fan fervor in the BBC promos (“Sherlock’s in love...”) and the pairing of queer-evocative musings (“what’s the worst thing you can do... tell the truth”) with Culverton Smith’s perversely apparent necrophilia. Even though I now understand what these things probably symbolize, it still pisses me off. It grossed out Normies, and Normies are the friends, colleagues, parents, etc, of queer people. And it played the “Invisible Army” for fools; an army that is made up of individual soldiers, with their own stories, fears, hopes and demons. These people may have crawled out on a limb that was dangerous for them... and yes; that was their choice, but Mofftiss cut it off behind them for the sake of a media ploy, not a real matter of life-and-death. Even in the hetero-mainstream, the Conspiracy is now well-known, thanks to the loud 2012-2014 era theorizing... even the Honest Trailers guy uses it! So now, these people were made to look delusional in front of others who have heard their theories, but don’t have enough meta-chops to realize that TJLC remains (sort of... mostly...) correct. 
> 
> (I hadn’t actually done much TJLC advertising in my real world... because, prior to S4, I felt that “loose lips would sink ships.” Now I frankly don’t care. I would sling-shot Mofftisson right in the collective ball sack, if I could: “You guys flubbed it. You now need all the help on the ground you can get.”)
> 
> Please pardon me while I yack pointlessly at the ceiling for a moment at the commander... it’s what I do when frustrated: 
> 
> (The Dads have left the sofa, Admiral Short’n’Curly. If the Dads... or, the Mum, I guess, in your TFP’s case it seems... leave the sofa, WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT? Not everyone’s gonna take 1st year film studies and get the scissors for your Gordian knot. So if you really didn’t want a Kitty Riley giving up the answer key, well... THIS time, you deserve what you get. Sign my shirt, knaves. You’re lucky I’m better than Kitty, and remember this ain’t for your sake... it’s for Newbie, and hopefully also ARG & their family. AND I don’t have 30-mill worth of home security, so yeah: THIS IS WHAT BRAVE LOOKS LIKE.)


	16. Scene Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the case below should be recognizable as a modern take on the real Edalji case.
> 
> Wenlock... I had to google that to remind myself... it was the Brit mascot for the London Olympics that had just happened before I wrote the script. Weird looking thing... looks like a giant eye.
> 
> Which is freakin' perfect for this Big-Brother-Is-Watching themed story.

15\. EXT./INT. SCOTLAND YARD – DAY 

Establishing shots: JOHN and SHERLOCK en route to building.  
An editorial cartoon on newsstand in the background pictures Wenlock mascot being squeezed by a giant hand, eye bulging.

Inside:  
LESTRADE  
(Making introductions)  
Inspector Martin here is primary on the case. 

MARTIN  
I appreciate your discretion, Mr Holmes. I know we’re not supposed to, erm, collaborate... but Greg has always spoken highly of your insight.

LESTRADE and MARTIN, show SHERLOCK and JOHN the footage obtained from a building security camera from day of the Smith Square attacks. 

Table nearby is littered with various bits of evidence from the case.  
MARTIN  
So, basically, animal-rights activists suited up as, well, animals: cows, pigs, you know... waving placards and the like. Then someone throws a couple smoke bombs and it all goes to hell.  
They watch the footage unfold as MARTIN describes.

SHERLOCK  
And in the commotion...

MARTIN  
... the perpetrator stabs three members of the NFU, who were trying to get though to a conference in the DEFRA Headquarters. Wound evidence suggests it was all the same knife, so...

SHERLOCK  
...so one attacker. No prints on weapon, I’d assume.

LESTRADE  
That’s right.  
(Nods toward screen)  
This is the closest view of the incident that we have and it’s almost unreadable. Lots of smoke. Lots of people and... sheep people... running around.

JOHN  
No deaths?

MARTIN  
No, but the one young lady definitely came close. And now we have to...

SHERLOCK  
...separate the wolf from the sheep.  
(Straightens up)  
So, you brought him in again?

MARTIN   
(Nods toward interview room   
window in background)  
He’s here, yeah. For the third time and, believe me, he and his lawyers are not happy about it. Definitely a radical, but we just can’t seem to get anything solid on him. He was near the most severely-wounded victim when the smoke cleared with her blood on his costume...

LESTRADE  
...but that could have been simply from trying to help her, which is what his story is.

SHERLOCK  
(Smiles)  
I’ll be right back.  
(Grabs a newspaper from a   
nearby desk as he passes)

As LESTRADE and JOHN continue to talk, in the background, SHERLOCK is seen entering the interview room through the window’s open blinds. 

LESTRADE  
(Quietly)  
Didn’t expect to see you guys so soon after... well, yesterday. What are you doing here?

JOHN  
The usual. You know.

LESTARDE  
How is he...?

In the window, SHERLOCK holds out a hand, as if asking something from the suspect, EDALJI.

JOHN  
The usual. You know.

LESTRADE  
Right. Do you think...?

EDALJI hands something to SHERLOCK, who leaves the interview room.

JOHN  
I have no idea. I’m expecting some odd behaviour to surface at some point, but...

SHERLOCK returns, moving as if just putting something away in his pocket. 

LESTRADE  
You weren’t in there long. What did he say?

SHERLOCK  
Oh, some choice words about this institution of law enforcement. You can replay the tape later.

SHERLOCK peruses evidence table. There’s a lot. He takes his time. Reads some of the reports. Picks up various items. 

He scans through the website on a laptop screen. It is EDALJI’S; with a picture him on one side. He is extremely nerdy-looking; complete with Coke-bottle glasses.

Scene cuts indicate passage of time.

MARTIN  
So, what are you going to do?  
(Tilts head in direction of   
window, impatient)  
Bore him into confessing?

SHERLOCK  
I left him a newspaper. Now, then...

SHERLOCK picks up a stapler from a nearby desk and chucks it, full force, at MARTIN’S head. JOHN and LESTRADE make noises of shocked protest.

MARTIN  
(Reacting, catching it)  
Christ!

SHERLOCK  
Good reflexes! 

MARTIN  
You’re a nutter too, you are...

In background, EDALJI does not react to the commotion, even the interview room’s occupant would be able to see out the window as well. He is trying to read the paper, holding it at varying distances from his face and squinting.

SHERLOCK  
So. Here’s what you know... 

FLASH CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re a newer or casual Sherlock fan, you may or may not be aware of the immediate aftermath of S4. On one hand, there was the aforementioned protesting. On the other, there was a mad scramble for clues like an online treasure hunt, with some fans thinking that the “prize” for solving it would be the release of Series 5. The Time of Humanity was over. The Age of the ARG had come: Twitter accounts and websites that “behaved” like the characters or posted riddles. Of these, the “Contacts” were probably the most famous: SH and JHW being the best loved, I think; though that probably depends who you ask. There were also thelostspecial and vivala, (‘Viva la’ Revolution?... I literally just realized that while typing this... I have been mispronouncing it, OMG kekeeyybrrdssmmssh!) all of which I don’t know much about. I’m sure you could find out all about it on Tumblr, but the gist of the matter was that there was a lot going on with a VERY fragmented context, and ALL* of it was Poppycock with a capital cock.
> 
> *Brief aside: I suppose it is possible that there was a real BBC-driven game of some sort... perhaps with The Game Is Now?... but I have NO knowledge of it. My gut feeling is that there isn’t, or if there is, it’s way too meta for most of you... they don’t want people figuring this whole thing out too early. I do not usually delete comments on any of my fics, but I might consider it if anyone below tries to leave “real” clues here. If you want to play a Game, GO ELSEWHERE. Auntie Beeb makes fun of you publicly and then takes your money... which is fine if you are okay with that, but some of you are very Not-Okay, by the sounds of it. I personally don’t care either way... I might even end my Beeb-cott (I’m a bit curious to take a crack at that stupid Game the next time I’m across the Pond, and I hear that Whitiker’s 2nd season is actually watchable) BUT my stories are not the place for ARGing and I will kick your dumb bums out if you comment to that effect.
> 
> Basically; I don’t like playing by other people’s rules. I like beating bullies at their own games.


	17. Scene Sixteen

16\. EXT. NOBEL HOUSE – DAY 

As SHERLOCK speaks, the scene at the protest plays out in briefly flashed images or short clips, just as he describes:

SHERLOCK (V.O.)  
Three victims, stabbed at distances varying from 4 to 22 yards from each other, in one case, up the front steps and on the other side of the banister. At least one assailant. One knife, positively identified as the weapon, with no prints but one hair fiber, classified as canine, stuck in the hilt. Dozens of witnesses, but none with any clear visibility. One very persistent witness, who happens to be father to the vice-president of the National Farmer’s Union and close personal friend to Detective Inspector Martin.

FLASH RETURN TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 2017: I made two little Twitter accounts of bit-characters (Langdale and Damery, another juxtaposed pairing that I love to employ; see ‘People Will’) to try to play along with the Contacts, who I initially thought were BBC-run. That got boring after a couple weeks when it was evident they weren’t, so I mainly just had my two accounts talk to each other (DIALOGUE!), dropping hints and clues that I hadn’t seen other contemporary theorists get already. This didn’t really get much attention, but it was fun... sort of like writing a play. It was also a way of putting what I had to offer out there: “Hey! If you want to swoon over what JHW cooked SH for dinner, I’m NOT your gal. If you want to debate the true meaning of the note pressed in the book, I’ve got a good theory. Did you get the shadows too?” I made poem-riddles about hearts & lungs and about the Gloria Scott as a pirate ship with Yellow-, Red- and Blackbeard. I made another account of the skull on the mantle (William) to be a sparing partner for Pike, and goof off around the Contact accounts to show how they were for fun, but they were not real. “Tweet SH a pic of your favourite kitchen utensil!” (I think we got about 17 people to do it and they were mostly whisks and spatulas... Fury’s probably still upset about that.) 
> 
> I also made “Ivy BOSOM” and “Loudest TUB-SEXTS in Television” Twitter accounts so I could “spar” with them about the theories in my stories. THIS got me traction, because most fans loved it when they actually thought I was Someone Important spoofing them. When I found out later that the real namesakes had left the online fandom due to previous online bullying much worse than a playful straw-manning, I felt very badly, deleted these accounts and apologized to them in the fic called The Sentencing (direct contact didn’t work; they are wary of strangers bearing Sherlock for obvious reasons). It was true: parodying an ordinary person instead of a famous/untouchable one or just a concept was in poor taste, even though I intended it to make them laugh, not hurt their feelings. My impression from 6-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon is that these two are far above the fray, and their reception of my dorking around was somewhere between ‘meh-whatever loser’ and ‘heh. funny names’. (Fury is definitely still upset on their behalf though. Kevin Bacon told her to kick off her Sunday shoes, but she’s havin’ a hard time with that.)
> 
> Mostly, I just wrote stories here on AO3. I had done a series of three short-stories in real-time with the show episodes, kind of like trying to harmonize to the melody. Plot-wise, these were obviously incorrect, but theme-wise, they were pretty on-the-nose, like One Word Test had been. And I guess maybe that was the biggest problem.
> 
> Sorry for all the blah blah blah about the boring stuff but, without the preamble, it’d be really hard to understand why hundreds of people (some told me “thousands”, but I find that improbable) would come to zealously believe that I, lurking among them, was none other than Mark Gatiss, The Ice Man, The Story Strangler Himself.


	18. Scene Seventeen

17\. INT. SCOTLAND YARD – DAY 

MARTIN  
Now, wait a minute...  
SHERLOCK  
Merely stating the facts.

LESTRADE  
We knew all that already.

SHERLOCK  
Here’s what you also already know: Mr Edalji, so-called animal-rights radicalist, was present. Positively identified in earlier moments of footage, right before the smoke bombs went off. 

MARTIN  
(Glowering)  
Exactly.

SHERLOCK  
(To MARTIN)  
Detective Inspector, would you be so kind as to go bring out our guest?  
(As MARTIN begrudgingly leaves   
to do so, he continues)  
Positively identified ten yards from the first victim.

LESTRADE  
Yeah?

SHERLOCK  
Positively identified without wearing any glasses.

LESTRADE  
So?

MARTIN and EDALJI appear.

EDALJI  
Look, charge me with something, or leave me the hell alone. Or arrest that xenophobe, Anson... I know he’s been hanging around my neighborhood... 

SHERLOCK  
Do you have a dog, Mr Edalji?

EDALJI  
(Looking vaguely in SHERLOCK’S   
direction)  
Keeping dogs as pets is just another example of man’s subjugation of our fellow creatures...

SHERLOCK  
That would be a No, then. Too bad. These inspectors are looking for someone that owns an Irish wolfhound...

MARTIN  
Hold on. He could’ve gotten that knife from anywhere... 

LESTRADE  
Let’s, um, take this back into the interview room, shall we, or...

EDALJI  
I keep telling you people, I’m innocent! This is harassment!

SHERLOCK  
Possibly. This definitely is.

Picks up an orange from same desk and, with an exaggerated wind-up, lobs it at EDALJI’S face.

Everyone in the room reacts to SHERLOCK’S movements. Everyone except EDALJI. Until orange hits him, squarely in the face. Uproar ensues. 

SHERLOCK  
(Shouting over hubbub)  
Mr Edalji, can you calm down a moment and tell us why you had taken your glasses off at the protest?

EDALJI  
(Sputtering)  
What?!

SHERLOCK  
Could it have something to do with the fact that they fog up when the wearer is overheated... oh, say, wearing a full-bodied and hooded wool costume in the middle of a dense crowd?

EDALJI  
I’m going to see... all of you... in court...

SHERLOCK  
(Handing back his glasses and   
a napkin from the desk)  
Actually, that’s what I’m trying to avoid.

MARTIN  
He could have been wearing contacts.

EDALJI  
I don’t wear contacts.

MARTIN  
Well, how do we know that? You could have gotten rid of them before...

LESTRADE  
Okay, everybody just simmer down...

SHERLOCK  
You don’t wear them because you have a severe myopia and irregular astigmatism that contact lenses would not correct. An independent ophthalmologist will be able to confirm that for these gentlemen... who will be forced to conclude that, even if wearing something for partial correction, it is unlikely that a man with eyesight as poor as yours could navigate at least 30 yards through a crowd in poor visibility to target three separate and specific individuals.   
(To MARTIN and LESTRADE)  
You are looking for an assailant that, in addition to keen vision and a long-haired pet, has some experience in violent situations. An enraged extremist may stab an opponent in the heat of the moment, but not likely two, and certainly not three. This was highly planned and that takes expertise. I would look for connections between this event...

SHERLOCK’S voice trails off. He picks up a charred piece of a paper bag from the evidence table. Partial logo visible: English & Cyrillic letters, a smiling babuska holding food.

LESTRADE  
Forensics identified that as what one of the smoke bombs was in.

Flash! Image in SHERLOCK’S mind: the Baltic Deli; the storefront behind MYCROFT on the street where he was killed.

Flash! Back to SHERLOCK’S face, as he inspects it.

SHERLOCK  
(Softly)  
...and others.

DISSOLVE TO:

MONTAGE: 

SHERLOCK investigating in the Baltic Deli, LESTRADE shows up, obviously called by the irritated owners.

SHERLOCK and LESTRADE at a series of various crime scenes: examining some white powder, examining religious-extremist graffiti messages, interviewing witnesses, etc. 

Cues in scenes denote passage of time, by people’s clothing, foliage in gardens, etc. Spring has become summer.

SHERLOCK investigating with gusto. LESTRADE increasingly irritated by SHERLOCK; by the final scene, his actions are suggestive of telling SHERLOCK to step off.

END MONTAGE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I was saying—
> 
> “I think you’ve said QUITE enough, don’t you?!” 
> 
> Whoa Fury! Are you still here? I thought you fecked off to yell on Tumblr about me without finding out why that’s gonna make you look like a jerk. 
> 
> (Fury has her arms folded, wand poking out the left side. Pike doesn’t know why she’s so scared of her... Fury is reminiscent of Hermione Granger when she’s indignant.) “Here’s a quote for you: Only LIES have detail.”
> 
> Oh, I see what you did there; very clever. But let me counter: ‘The truth is rarely pure and never simple.’ And give me a break: if you summarized several years of your life, it would probably take a while too... or would it just be: ‘Watched John leave Sherlock. Got angry. Watched Rogers leave Barnes. Got angry...’ Of course, not, right? Life is full! And these are just the parts I lived while I had coming-out anxiety and insomnia! Besides. I’ve tried to be briefer: and y’all don’t get it.
> 
> “How could it possibly NOT occur to you that people would jump through hoops for clues and lose their minds over this stuff?!”
> 
> Um. Because I wouldn’t do that. I don’t personally know anyone that would do that. Me & mine just tend to bitch about shows over wine, watch some Lindsay Ellis reviews, crack some jokes and move on cuz we got work in the morning. We feel sorry for whales that nudge their dead calves along for 17 days, or for people that accidently got themselves born in Myanmar... not for Millennials who freely choose to go wonky over something. Honestly, the possibility did not occur to me. And, once I was informed of the more severe consequences, I DID stop being goofy almost immediately... unlike just about every other Player in the Game. Check my previous feeds and comments if you feel like wasting your time verifying that.
> 
> “What if YOU wasted your time reading some script that you later found out wasn’t real?”
> 
> Well, I’d probably just shrug it off as my own mistake. I don’t begrudge LSiT for wasting my time with M-Theory (because someone put a gun to my head... no wait. Because I chose to read it.) If it was a good script, I’d probably enjoy it and give props to the Rogue, which is what a lot of people did. I love an underdog story. Was it a good script?
> 
> “It doesn’t matter: it wasn’t real!”
> 
> Of course it was real... look, it’s all here! It’s got intrigue and cool scene transitions and everything! It’d probably come out with a screen-time of roughly 90 min if we had a good editor (with better pacing than Six Thatchers, I might add!) Anyway, I kinda want to just get through the history lesson so we can get back to the GOOD part, so—
> 
> “I MEAN: BECAUSE IT’S NOT A REAL MOFFTISS SCRIPT!”
> 
> Oh.
> 
> (Fury just glowers.)
> 
> So... it’s not... good then?
> 
> “How about this, then: would you like it if there were parodies out there of YOU?”
> 
> (Pike dares to raise a hopeful eyebrow.) Are there any parodies of me?
> 
> “Doubt it. Nobody would bother to waste their time on that.”
> 
> (Pike’s shoulders slump in disappointment.) Oh well. (She gives Fury a weasley smile.) Listen, in the next notes, I’m going to knock out a giant mountain troll with his own club for you... do you think after that we could be friends?


	19. Scene Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo! Okay, this scene contains the infamous missing pages... I did not share page 61-63 with any online friends previously. (More info on all that in the end notes.) I held it back for two reasons:
> 
> 1) It kept my copy an "original" match to the one sent to BBC  
> and   
> 2) This is where I totally broke the fourth wall about M-Theory.
> 
> Basically (as I describe in my narrative below) I really didn't expect this to get much reciprocal attention from anyone at BBC, but I just liked the audacity of it. If you want to send someone a message, do it in style! 
> 
> My message? Well, hopefully it's obvious... that they could piss about with their silly stories, but SOME people were just as clever and had higher stakes in real life, so it would BEHOOVE them to remember that. (By this point, I had watched a few interviews of Moffat being a sassy biatch about "Nobody in the Fandom really getting it." and "Nobody in slash (fanfics) understanding 5 act structure." 
> 
> And I guess I hadn't totally understood absolutely everything in 2015.
> 
> But I was damn close. Damn close. And not freakin' bad for an amateur who came to this thing casually.
> 
> As for my "Pilot Fish" comment... From an episode of Doctor Who; a pilot fish accompanies and heralds the appearance of a shark. I was basically boasting that I would follow this preliminary script attempt with future stories. At the time, it was a sassy gamble. I had no idea if I'd follow it through or not.
> 
> I very nearly didn't. Fury almost made sure of that.

EXT./INT. 221 BAKER ST - DAY 18

Establishing shots: Late summer.

JOHN and SHERLOCK approach door. SHERLOCK’S face is filthy, smeared black dust.

JOHN  
... you’re lucky they didn’t haul you in as a suspect.

SHERLOCK  
It’s hardly my fault that my response time is faster.

JOHN  
In which case, don’t you think a more appropriate response would have been helping the victims?!

SHERLOCK  
I did a quick survey. Minor injuries and shock. 

As they enter the front door, SHERLOCK’S phone trills. He reaches into his pocket, finds it empty and looks around.

JOHN  
Here. You forgot it at the crime scene.  
(Hands him the phone)  
Shock can be serious, Sherlock.

SHERLOCK reads email, which appears on wall, reading:   
“Re: Let’s have dinner...  
Anthea said you were looking for me. Sorry for the delay.   
Saw photo: Not me; wrong continent. Very pretty though.”

SHERLOCK  
(Reading))  
Well, I didn’t have any shock blankets, so...

Email continues to scroll on wall:  
“P.S. My belated condolences. Are you in need of comfort?”

SHERLOCK scowls and puts phone away. 

JOHN  
Sherlock... look... is there anything I can...?

SHERLOCK  
Not now, John.

Begins to ascend stairs. Faint sound of violin O.S. SHERLOCK pauses on the third step. The violin also pauses.

JOHN  
Did you hear that?

SHERLOCK  
(Nodding, peering at wall as   
they continue to ascend)  
That scuttling, yes. Must have been Basil. One of these days, I’m going to catch that little...

SHERLOCK and JOHN enter their flat. MURTAGH is seated in JOHN’S chair. Music playing again. MRS HUDSON is fiddling with SHERLOCK’S music player dock.

MRS HUDSON  
Ah, boys! I was just trying to play Mr Murtagh here your latest composition, Sherlock, while he passed the time. Though damned if I can figure out how to work this silly thing...

JOHN  
Oh! Hello again!

SHERLOCK  
(Turns off stereo)  
Thank you, Mrs Hudson, for showing him in.

The wall above the sofa is papered over in case work: a map, photos, news-stories, etc. Some affixed with pins; a few with forks or knives. It’s worse than usual.

MRS HUDSON  
(Indicating wall)  
My bloody wall. Sherlock...  
(Leans in close to him)  
Listen, dear. I know you’re going through a rough spell, but you really need to let this theory of yours go...

SHERLOCK  
(Dismissively ushers her out)  
Thank you, Mrs Hudson.  
(To MURTAGH)  
Sorry for keeping you. I’m later than I expected.

MURTAGH  
No trouble at all. Although it looks like there was some.  
Do you need to... erm...?

SHERLOCK  
Give me a moment.  
(Heads off to change.)

JOHN  
(Looks at paraphernalia on   
wall above sofa, sighs, calls after him)  
You’re getting as bad as Anderson, you know.

MURTAGH   
(Quietly, to JOHN)  
I’ve recently been ‘round to see how the Mr and Mrs are fairing with the trial proceedings. They’ve been worried about him since his testimony last week.

JOHN  
Oh? I thought he was very... reserved.

MURTAGH  
Exactly. How is he really?

JOHN  
(Shrugging)  
He doesn’t talk about it.

MURTAGH  
(Nodding at wall)  
Work is an antidote for sorrow, though, it seems?

JOHN  
Yeah. More than usual, in fact.  
(Clears throat)  
So, you... uh. You knew Mycroft fairly well then?

MURTAGH  
As well as anyone, I’d expect. He was a tough nut to crack.   
(He and JOHN share a   
conspiratorial laugh)  
We first met at Harrow, roomed together a year at Oxford. And then we never worked together, per se, but twists and turns of our careers often intersected. 

JOHN  
(Conversationally)  
And that career would be...?

MURTAGH laughs and taps the side of his nose. JOHN nods with a smile and a shrug.

JOHN  
Of course.

MURTAGH  
Though, given what’s happened to my poor friend, one might be inclined to consider a quiet return to academia.

SHERLOCK returns to sitting room, wiping face with a towel and JOHN vacates SHERLOCK’S chair. Heads for kitchen.

JOHN  
I’m starving. You got anything in? No, wait. Silly question.

Inside fridge POV: JOHN staring at several bags full of pale squiggly-looking things.

JOHN  
Ugh. Do I even want to know what these are...

SHERLOCK  
They’re cabbage-rolls. Go ahead, help yourself.

JOHN  
(Quietly, fridge POV)  
Why would you have 6 dozen cabbage-rolls?  
(To SHERLOCK)  
Right. I’m going to pop down to Speedy’s. You want anything?

SHERLOCK waves him off. JOHN departs.

SHERLOCK  
As I’m sure you’ve guessed, we’ve just returned from West Ham Station.

MURTAGH  
I saw the news. Terrifying. Mercy everyone survived.

SHERLOCK  
Apparently, there is already a YouTube video with the Brotherhood of the Star claiming responsibility. 

MURTAGH  
But... you have your doubts?

SHERLOCK  
Oh, you know them. They’ll take the credit for anything. But the explosives were nitromethane-based. Which is unusual, for one. Why use an Annexed substance when they have so many other options? And, for two, the same type was found in that intercepted airport incendiary last month.

SHERLOCK stands and picks up a sticky note from the desk. Writes “Brotherhood” on it and sticks it on map above sofa.

Flash! Close-up images of wall: map of UK, sticky notes in different colours indicating various events. Readable: “DEFRA”, “Aberdeen”, “Magnox”, “TMD”, “Prince?”

MURTAGH  
The one linked to the PKU arrests.

SHERLOCK  
Who were also forthcoming in their culpability. 

MURTAGH  
Unless...

SHERLOCK  
Unless it wasn’t them either. I think some of these seemingly unconnected incidents are, in fact, the work of one group. One that is larger, more resourceful and yet not eager to receive recognition. 

MURTAGH  
Like Moriarty’s. Or last year’s Red Network?

SHERLOCK  
Moriarty’s now no longer poses a threat; that I can assure you.   
(As if to self)  
And the Reds were nowhere near sophisticated enough for this.

MURTAGH  
(Knowing look)  
Only in their ability to hi-jack television channels. 

SHERLOCK says nothing.

MURTAGH  
Why wouldn’t someone be eager to receive the recognition?

SHERLOCK  
Why, indeed?  
(Turns, as if speaking directly into camera)  
But it’s not always about recognition. Maybe it’s an amateur with a scant hope of connecting directly with the Powers That Be.

MURTAGH  
(Nods toward a Post-It on the wall that says “M-Theory”)  
I’ve heard of that.

SHERLOCK  
(Scowling deeply)  
A theory, like many similar ones, that fits some of the facts. One that I sincerely hope is not true in its entirety.

MURTAGH  
Why?

SHERLOCK  
Because... although I didn’t always think so... it appears that they are really going to go through with their Long Game. And, when that happens, the reason can’t be simply because the players were puppets. That would be a mistake. That would be the wrong thing for the world to see. 

MURTAGH  
Why does the world matter?

SHERLOCK  
Because noises are important. 

MURTAGH  
Noises can tell you everything. Ah... I see. The sound of the penny dropping...

SHERLOCK  
(Genuine smiling.)  
...is going be deafening. But it isn’t about that. It’s about what comes after. The penny belongs to them. The echoes belong to us.

Beat.

MURTAGH  
You know, if you truly wanted this to go viral, you’d have to edit...

SHERLOCK  
Oh, obviously!

MURTAGH  
...and tidy up the sub-text...

SHERLOCK  
Text.

MURTAGH  
...and the plot because you’ve made some errors that the clever ones are going to see right through. Not to mention formatting. And update the roll-out schedule...

SHERLOCK  
(Waves a hand dismissively)  
Yes yes yes... But timelines dictated sending this now. And anyway... it’s not bad for a first draft from Nobody Important. Imagine what fun I could have had with Three Garridebs...  
(Shrugs with a grin)  
You never know. The PTB themselves may be in touch. 

MURTAGH  
You must know that this probably isn’t going to work. Why all the effort?

SHERLOCK  
Fun. Naturally.  
(Grins puckishly)  
And... maybe it’s a Pilot Fish. 

MURTAGH  
My, you’re enjoying yourself. But shall we get back to it?

SHERLOCK  
As you wish.

MURTAGH  
Did you get any further in deciphering your brother’s notes?

SHERLOCK  
Not yet. It’s all in code, of course. Although it’s possible ‘Prince’ refers to the incident with the Royals last winter. If so, that was related as well.   
(Turns to MURTAGH)  
You were still employed in that capacity at that time... what did you think?

MURTAGH  
Honestly? A poorly executed affair that garnered little more than media attention. But I’ve underestimated people before. I’ve never been as good as the Holmes boys at character judgment.

SHERLOCK smiling wryly, turns his back. Examines wall again.

MURTAGH  
I’m surprised that you’re home as quickly as you are, given the circumstances. I was expecting to receive your cancellation.

SHERLOCK  
(Muttering)  
My presence... was not appreciated by the responding Detective Inspector. 

MURTAGH  
(Laughs)  
Well, he’s a fool, then.

SHERLOCK  
Actually, he’s a very good cop. I have no doubt he’ll log overtime all weekend to do his best diligence.

JUMP CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My experience parodying TJLC-ers has given me a bit of insight on how the Powers-That-Be do exactly the same thing... and, just like in my little blip of a situation, most fans tend to LOVE this little shout-out if they think it’s coming direct from The Grand Moff, of course. The Moriarty-shipping goth chick who doesn’t think “we should wear hats” in TEH gets to herald the #SherlockLives return. Anderson is a stand-in for conspiracy nuts (Moffisson may or may not intend this symbolism but, in my writing, I usually employ him and Sally Donovan as a pair... he’s the Believer and she’s the audience-at-large Skeptic. There’s a nice little bit in this script where they “reconcile”, which is what we would hope for the outside world too, I would think?)
> 
> I don’t know if anyone else out there has caught this, but: Kitty Riley is probably one too. Superficially, she’s representing trash media, obviously. Deeper though; ah, here’s the Sherlock Theorist—and doesn’t matter from which slash slant she comes—slithering up with breasts and a smile: You can trust me. I can tell your story. I KNOW you. To which, Sherlock/Moffitisson responds (extremely coldly) No. No, you don’t, actually.
> 
> There’s another couple of really important faces that I think they make us wear... but I’ll get to that after the Fandom history lesson.
> 
> After the havoc we raised following S4, all TJLC better put their big girl panties on. I can’t wait to see how they dress us up in S5 (or The Lost Special... I don’t know which it will be. Whatever. The 5th Act.) I think it’ll be hilarious. I also think it will be kinder than it probably should be. Try to look for the kindness in it. Even if it’s not there, your blood pressure will thank you.
> 
> Oh, I almost forgot! There’s also the girl on the plane. They are trying to be comforting—if a little condescending—with this one. (‘Scuze me! while I kiss the Sky...)
> 
> “Oh, Mr Sherlock! The passengers are all asleep and I can’t wake them up!”
> 
> “Um, it’s okay. Stay calm. I’ll help you, you just, er... need to give me some time...”
> 
> “But my mummy won’t wake up either and I’m weally weally scared!”
> 
> “Calm down. I’m a big clever man and I’m going to save you—“
> 
> Static crackle. “Toot toot! The train has LEFT the station!”
> 
> “What?!”
> 
> “Hello Mr S. Relax. Everything is under control.”
> 
> Shock and surprise. “Who are YOU?”
> 
> “Captain Pike, sir. Listen, you can cut the crap. I’ve got Stripe-Shirt here and she’s actually quite capable. I’m just gonna show her what the dials and switches are for, and then I think she can land this sucker.”
> 
> “Uh. You can’t do that right now. That kinda messes with our schedules here...”
> 
> “Listen. You’ve had ample chance, and I know you think you can still wake her mummy up, but that’s kind of her job, not yours. I mean, maybe you can help a little, but frankly, sir...” voice fades momentarily as Pike explains something to the other soul in the cockpit: yes-when-you-see-a-big-red-button-ALWAYS-push-it... before returning: “...you got too woolly with the turbulence back there, and her dad just jumped out, so now nobody trusts YOU. Anyway, how ‘bout this: we’re just gonna do a few really low fly-bys to prime the taxiway for you, and you can use it later if you’re quite done micturating your scent on Dracula.” 
> 
> “I insist you abort, Soldier! Admiral’s orders! You are stealing that plane!”
> 
> M steps in, sighing. “Don’t worry Sherlock. She’s bluffing. She’s not a Captain, she’s a rogue and quite obviously nobody important. She doesn’t even know how to fly an Oxford comma. The girl won’t listen to her.” He addresses the de facto pilot directly. “Hands off, scoundrel! This is a LOCAL plane-wreck for LOCAL people.”
> 
> “With all due respect, sir. You can kiss my unimportant little ass.”


	20. Scene Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me & the hubby are Arsenal fans. Had impromptu curry with "Chelsea Pete" on our honeymoon.
> 
> Bottom-line: BBC Sherlock needs more footie.

19\. INT. STADIUM, UPPER LEVEL – DAY

LESTRADE and MARTIN, with beverages, sitting in seats at a football game. Fans in red and light blue seen throughout. 

LESTRADE  
(Raises cup)  
Cheers mate. Here’s to whole two days off the clock.

MARTIN  
You said it. I need a vacation.

LESTRADE  
Oh, I know. Is it just me, or have the last six months been getting crazier by the day?

MARTIN  
Not our problem right now.

They cheers cups. In the crowd nearby, faint shouting.

LESTRADE  
Nope. The game is on.

Nearby fans fighting. One shoves another; others join.

MARTIN  
(Watching detachedly)  
Work-life balance.

Two red-shirted fans grab and toss a blue down the aisle.

LESTRADE  
(Slowly, watching.)  
Yup. Right now, we are off the...

More voices shouting. Somebody screams.

LESTRADE  
(Sighs)  
Clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Online bullshit... ANY online bullshit about anything... is quite analogous to watching 6-year-olds play sports. (I now have some experience in both matters.) The vast majority are having fun, occasionally bumping into each other and shaking it off to keep their eye on the ball. There’s always a few that are wailing big ol’ snot-bubble tears about how something isn’t fair... and they are usually drowning out the kid that has actually fallen and skinned their knee. And then there’s one or two that the other kids are awkwardly—and perhaps unnecessarily—avoiding because they are spinning around in circles yammering about aliens. And then, there’s one... there’s ALWAYS at least one... picking their nose and alternating between eating and flinging the boogers.
> 
> Well. Guess which one I am.
> 
> For most of Febuary 2017, I was pretty much just amusing myself, and trying to influence fans with larger accounts to steer the protesting away from vicious crazy shit over to something funny... ‘cuz it there’s anything Pepe-the-Frog* likes, it’s a good joke, so, if We were going to be a Big Joke, why not make it more on our terms? I had made ONE other fake Twitter account... but I’ll tell you about that one later.
> 
> (*Pepe the Frog is a mascot of 4chan... which is like a masculine-skewed version of Tumblr, but mainly a cesspool of dick-jokes and a breeding ground for Incels. It’s never a good idea to go looking for trouble there, but if they come for you, the best way to deal is just be funnier than they are. People like me could probably infiltrate and rule 4chan like Boudicca, but who the hell would want to? I don’t want to digress too much here, but I really hope somebody in the comments brings up the George Takei thing and how it spilled over into 4chan. Fuck, that was funny. So, apropos of almost nothing, please enjoy my favourite celebrity impression of George Takei by Richard Cheese on youTube: Don't Cha. Wait for it. Wait... for... it... Oh my.)
> 
> So, while I was boppin’ around the post-S4 wasteland like a pinball wizard, (heh heh) a bunch of people were formulating theories about how I couldn’t possibly be a “real” person: my stories were too insightful, too prescient and too meta. I was Mark, and I was playing among the troops, like a deranged King Henry V. In fact, I was actually NOT aware of this for most of the time it was happening (three, four weeks maybe? not sure.) I did like the increase in followers and in the nudge-nudge-wink-winking that was going on around me, but I thought it was just because people thought I was smart and funny. (I mean; I think I’m smart and funny, so... why not?)


	21. Scene Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soccer fans are almost as insane as Sherlock fans.
> 
> Almost.

20\. INT. STADIUM, LOWER LEVEL - DAY 

LESTRADE and MARTIN, milling about with other officers and security. A large-scale riot has apparently occurred.

Injured and upset people in background, fans being detained and interviewed. MARTIN is holding an ice-pack to his face.

LESTRADE  
(Pointing to it)  
You should really go and...

MARTIN  
(Irritated)  
I’m fine.

LESTRADE  
(Looking around)  
Well, this is going to take a while to sort out.

A JUNIOR officer hurries up to them.

JUNIOR  
Excuse me, sir, sir, but we’re having a bit of an issue with one detainee in the holding pen.

LESTRADE  
Let me guess? Trying to break out?

JUNIOR  
No, uh... no, sir. We actually caught him, um... breaking in.

LESTRADE and MARTIN both look confused, then LESTRADE rolls eyes in realization.

LESTRADE  
Right.

Holding pen area: a cuffed and disgruntled SHERLOCK sits between cuffed blue- and red-shirt fans, who are shouting footie-related jibes at each other.

LESTRADE motions for him to stand, starts removing cuffs.

LESTRADE  
Are you just going to show up to every single crime scene this summer?

SHERLOCK  
(Scowling, indicates fans   
behind them)  
Well, it did seem suspicious until I had to spend the last twenty minutes listening to this fervor-driven rhetoric. It’s forced me to conclude that football fans are truly as deranged as they appear.

Indiscriminate shouting.

LESTRADE  
Shut it, you lot!  
(To SHERLOCK)  
Actually, for Community Shield, not to mention first half... it is a bit suspicious. 

SHERLOCK  
How so?

LESTRADE  
Well. It’s kind of exhibition, right? I mean, nobody really cares about the outcome of this game...

RED#1  
Oi!

BLUE#1  
Says you, mate!

RED#2  
Yeah, and it’d be the Gunners anyway...

Indiscriminate shouting, fighting resumes. Security and junior officers step in and LESTRADE leads SHERLOCK away.

MARTIN  
(Joining them)  
Keep getting reports of an “instigator”.

LESTRADE  
Description? One of the detainees, I hope.

MARTIN   
That’s what’s maddening. We’ve got three different and entirely conflicting descriptions. 

He picks up a half-filled cup from nearby counter and holds it up before starting to toss it in the bin.

MARTIN  
If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was something stronger in the sauce.

SHERLOCK  
(Grabbing the cup)  
Maybe there is.

MARTIN  
Well, you get on that, Lab-Boy.  
(Turns back to LESTRADE)  
This is ridiculous. It’s going to take all night to get all the statements. I wish they’d pass that damn bill so we can just start holding everyone for seventy-two hours...

SHERLOCK  
Oh, that’s advantageous. Lock people up so you can do your paperwork on a more convenient schedule.

MARTIN  
(Angrily)  
I know you think this is funny, but this was a serious riot!

SHERLOCK  
I didn’t say it was funny.  
(Waves toward fans)  
Those aren’t terrorists.

MARTIN  
(Leans in threateningly)  
Oh, yeah? I got six people leaving here in ambulances! One of them’s a kid.  
(Starts to leave, turns   
back)  
You know what the definition of terrorism is, Mr Holmes?  
(Beat)  
Something that terrifies people.

SHERLOCK and LESTRADE watch him leave. Then SHERLOCK notices something on the ground. Picks it up.

SHERLOCK  
Strange-looking thing.  
(Examines the black bomb-  
shaped key-chain foible...)

LESTRADE  
Oh, that’s an Angry Bird.  
(SHERLOCK blanks him)  
You know, the internet thing...  
(Blank)  
Never mind. It was a fad.

SHERLOCK  
How can birds be angry?

LESTRADE  
(Moving on)  
Well, have fun with that.

SHERLOCK  
You don’t want it...

LESTARDE  
Not everything is a clue, you know. Turn it in at Lost and Found. And piss off, I don’t want to have to write you up too.

SHERLOCK walks away.

DISSOLVE TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I finally got the scoop that people were following me because they thought I was Mark Gaitss, I have to say: my initial reaction was, of course, LMFAO. And then, for about 48 hours, it was a bit Machiavellian. I didn’t do much during that time... just continued being my vague, meta self in a more limited way while I collected the facts... but I pondered it internally: What if? Was it so bad if someone with a moral compass like mine had 15 minutes of fame? How big could I blow this thing up?
> 
> I had been really sickened by how BBC fucked with their fans in the promos; I thought that was really crass and distasteful. I was also sick of the negativity of the TJLC fandom drawing too much attention to the bad stuff instead of protesting the real issue in a unified, cogent and get-outta-the-echo-chamber way. And I really hated the treasure hunt hoop-jumping. I hadn’t realized how deep and dark it went yet, but I already hated it in principle... Sherlockians are supposed to be rational, logical, objective, and the ARG-playing was ANYTHING but. 
> 
> I’m actually a very private, shy, anxious person in the real world, but I did seriously consider trying to have Pike wave the fake script and lead a charge that would’ve went something like this:
> 
> “Hey! HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK OVER HERE FOR A MO’... I GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU... Oh, good. Now, while you’re all looking... 
> 
> You lot, over there. And there. And over there. You’re all being stupid arseholes. Knock it off.
> 
> And you, up there. Yes, YOU. Oh, NOW you see me, hmm? You’re all being stupid arseholes too. We’re not falling for it.
> 
> Everybody please stop being stupid arseholes. It’s going to distract from the reception of the tea... which is the point, right? Right. Cool? Cool. Pike OUT.”
> 
> But after mulling it for a couple days and researching the context I was truly in, I realized that it probably wouldn’t work and decided not to. You just can’t stop people on the internet from being stupid arseholes, period. I also had a gut feeling that trying to build something—even a very well-intentioned thing—would back-fire if it was based on a lie. I looked for someone normal and nice that I could talk to plainly and find out the best way to explain that I was not anyone special and everybody could just go away unless they liked me for who I really was.
> 
> I chose my Brown-Eyed Girl, who was an ardent follower of mine (I actually have no idea what she looks like, but her Twitter handle sported an emoji of brown eyes at the time, so that’s how I came to remember her.) I liked her stuff; she was clever and funny and quite clearly an ordinary person. I thought she seemed objective. I felt safe-ish talking to her in DMs.
> 
> Which was the dumbest and most dangerous thing I ever did.


	22. Scene Twenty-one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to frequent a pub that had a guy named "Shaky Pete" (no relation to Chelsea Pete) as a regular. He had CP. Used to get rolled a lot. Sherlock's Network is the domain of underdogs, so I wrote him in. His untimely death heralds what would have been the plot of the next episode... which I never had any intention of writing, but just wanted to hint at.

21\. EXT./INT. BART’S MORGUE – DAY

Establishing shots. Summer has become autumn.

SHERLOCK  
Is this really important, Molly? I’m kind of in the middle of something upstairs.

MOLLY  
Strange this one. John Doe. Floater.

SHERLOCK  
(Looking at the corpse)  
Not John. Pete.

MOLLY  
You knew him?

SHERLOCK  
A bit. ‘Shaky Pete’, Billy Wiggins called him. Had a palsy of some kind. Wiggins had sort of taken him under his wing.

MOLLY  
Did he know his full name? We could try to find next of kin...

SHERLOCK  
I’ll ask, but I don’t think so. Shaky Pete showed up a few weeks ago. Story is he’d been released... or escaped... from Winterfield, but nobody knows much about him.

MOLLY  
Well, it was drowning, but mostly not in the Thames.

SHERLOCK  
Mostly not?

They confer over Shaky Pete’s hollowed-out chest cavity.

MOLLY  
He was sick, Sherlock. His lungs were so full of mucous there wasn’t much room for river water. The police report said there were witnesses; he jumped off the Tower Bridge... 

SHERLOCK  
(Peering into thorax)  
Suicide then.

MOLLY  
Frankly, I don’t see how he was walking, let alone climbing. I mean, he must have been alive when he hit the water, but barely. And we don’t tend to see a lot of people with a plan to end it all because of the torment of flu.

SHERLOCK  
Oh, I’d wager Shaky Pete had a few more issues.

MOLLY  
Yes, but the timing. Seems like a lot of effort for someone in his condition. Sherlock, this was a very sick man.

SHERLOCK  
(Distractedly)  
Hmmm. Inferior medial border of scapula.

MOLLY  
Do you see anything?

SHERLOCK  
(POV: his face from inside ribcage)  
Sorry. Just thinking about another case.

MOLLY  
Oh?

SHERLOCK  
A bullet that passed anteriorly between the 6th and 7th rib, and only slightly nicking the scapula on exit would not deviate substantially from its course. 

POV SHERLOCK: schematic drawing of body superimposes over the corpse and then rises to standing position. Lines appear; bullet trajectories, as he continues to speak.

SHERLOCK  
If anything, it would likely be deflected downward. Possibly laterally, if so, then to the left.

MOLLY  
I suppose. I don’t really know much about...

SHERLOCK  
Assuming an in-body deceleration rate similar to a ballistics dummy, the spread of possible deviation after leaving the exit-wound... over a distance of, oh, say... 50 feet... would be roughly be a 12 foot radius...

As he speaks, the scene around them morphs to the street where MYCROFT was shot:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In quite a long DM conversation (in which, no person in a rational state of mind could misconstrue me as Gatiss, or Moffat or anyone Important) my new Twitter friend explained some of the broader context to me. I did my best to explain mine... not actually using personally identifying information, of course, because even though I was a social media newbie, I am not a MORON... and she really did seem to believe I was telling the truth. I told her about the script and, since she wanted to read it, I said I’d share as long as she really understood it wasn’t real. I figured it might bop around among a few dozen people maybe, and I would always maintain it was fake. On the off-chance it did “go viral” because people just liked the work of a ballsy amateur... well, cool. I would have achieved my objective without lying.
> 
> She shared it. No problem... it IS a good script, as you can hopefully see above. I think the majority (of the 300-500ish? that read it) saw it for what it was and gave me welcome props, and that was nice to have and, through it, I’ve since made a few new friends with lenses similar to mine.
> 
> But I found out (a few weeks later) that she had also screen-capped our entire private conversation without telling me, shared it with ARGers and STILL speculated on how I was really working for the BBC for a while afterward. This led to much turmoil in the Fandom and, ironically, (which type of irony is this? I don’t know... not an arts major...) to MUCH turmoil in mine by getting blamed for it. Plus it’s just a very sickening feeling to have a realization that someone has done that to you while you’ve been foolishly trusting and unaware. Part of that is because of the degree to which you blame yourself for being so stupid and naïve to make yourself so vulnerable. 
> 
> Hi Brown Eyes. I spent a long time politely not-talking to you, and this is the only time I’ll ever call you out directly on the matter. I want you to understand that I think of you fondly... you were young... you were having fun... I truly believe that you didn’t intend to hurt me or anyone else. You played me, and that’s MY fault for not understanding the rules of the venue I was in. I haven’t paid too much attention to you since our encounters, but I’ve heard from others that you gave up ARGing and actually did a lot to help others do the same. I appreciate that, and I wish you happy trails. But for Newbie’s sake, I’m including this warning: sometimes the ones everyone thinks are the wolves are the sheep, and vice versa. Your actions could have led to my family being stalked or harmed in the real world. And Newbies need to be warned to be very careful of the type of wolf that you were.
> 
> (Um. I’m only a “sheep” in the naivety sense. Not in the beta-female follower sense. In case it’s not abundantly clear by this point, the woman behind Dale Pike was already mooning the windows of middle-school Bitch’s Clubs while most of you lot were still in diapers. Y’all ain’t my first rodeo... and you won’t be my last.)
> 
> For any Come-Rounders who might have their own children, consider this. Your kids are gonna be online someday. (I mean... until we lose the grid in the Mad Max hell-scape that accompanies Greta’s worst nightmares.) Who would you be more afraid of them running into out here... a dorky Cannuck making spatula jokes and basically just trying to remind everyone to play fair? Or the ones tricking people and creating a situation where they could be doxed and stalked in real life? Know this: you can’t (in most cases) really blame the villain here. Don’t hate the Player. Hate—and protect yourselves against—the Game.
> 
> Two quick further points:
> 
> 1) Without villains, there would be no journeys, no challenges, no character growth. In the best stories, the villains often become heroes in their own way, if they are given a chance. In any case, I bear no grudges here; I’m just telling my story because (despite what Fury or Pepe says) my story matters.
> 
> 2) I didn’t seek to cast you in a villain role, Brown-Eyes. You chose that yourself. I gifted this story to you because I'm a bit curious what you'll do now. Which is also your choice, of course. FASCINATING.


	23. Scene Twenty-two

22\. EXT. STREET – DAY

SHERLOCK walks around the schematic man, ballistics lines appearing through the body and toward the building down the street.

MOLLY  
(In the scene with him,  
nodding patiently)  
Ah. So we are talking about your brother then.

The schematic man becomes MYCROFT. SHERLOCK turns away from him to watch bullet’s trajectory: towards the “Baltic Deli”.

SHERLOCK  
(Softly)  
It should have been here.

MOLLY  
The bullet was never found?

SHERLOCK  
(Walking around scene)  
It wasn’t found in the brickwork. It Couldn’t have deflected higher than the second story. The window, the owners claim, was recently broken and card-boarded beforehand... though, that may be untrue.  
(Frustrated)  
If only I could remember...

Certain parts of the scene are blurry as he replays it in his mind palace.

MOLLY walks back into view wearing a different shirt and hairstyle; sense of passage of time.

SHERLOCK  
But I’ve been there twice now. There’s nothing... and even if there were, my presence has surely tipped them off to destroying the evidence by now...

MOLLY  
(As if newly arriving)  
Oh, are we talking about this again...?

SHERLOCK  
It’s a misconception that all bullets that pass through their victims have trace blood present on analysis; many of them don’t. Mycroft’s however, passed through lung and heart tissue, it would have been saturated. It’s possible a trace may still exist... 

MOLLY  
Sherlock, even if you found it now...

SHERLOCK  
Unlikely, I grant you, but even typing is still possible on some dried traces after this long. 

MOLLY  
Yes, but what would that prove?

SHERLOCK  
Everything, if it’s found on a bullet that didn’t come from Sean Bealy or other gang members’ gun! My brother had a fairly rare blood type. Even if DNA analysis failed, the balance of probability is...

MOLLY  
(Looking around the scene)  
What if it didn’t make it that far? Hit something in between?

SHERLOCK  
We would have known if it hit another person. 

MOLLY  
A car, or something?

SHERLOCK  
Possible. People tend to report bullet damage, though. And I’ve scoured garages in that area for suspicious repairs that—-  
LESTRADE steps into view next to MOLLY.

LESTRADE  
Are you encouraging this, Moll?!

The scene dissolves. They are actually now in:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite tweeting/commenting repeatedly that I was NOT Gatiss (or, later, “not Mofftiss”), the ARGing around Pike got worse, not better. It was an absolute tea-bagging in the face of Logic that would have had Doyle spinning in his grave (if he wasn’t, y’ know, already spinning in the spiritualist realm, I guess). People screen-capped and speculated about everything I said; some trying to find me in the real world; some trying to find my “family in Bristol.” Some sent malware attempts, some sent love letters. Some wrote lengthy metas about what my stories and comments could possibly mean. Some got it partially right, and some were just hilarious fun, but most missed almost everything of importance.
> 
> I think the Furies that hated me probably thought that I poured gasoline on these fires and bounced around ARGers with Direct Messages like a deranged puppet-master, but the truth is (with the exception of the very-limited spatula thing) I didn’t usually talk directly to people (with the exception of the very-limited few that presented as friendly/sane in rigorous monitoring). And this was probably the weirdest thing: some of the craziest stuff that went on ABOUT me, was never actually directed TO me... I would only be informed of it by others later... and the broken-telephone context was nigh-indecipherable. 
> 
> The most indignant Furies (of which, I think I attracted probably a few dozen?) liked to have yell-fests at me that usually went as follows:  
> \- YOU’RE SCREWING WITH PEOPLE! (Um, no. I just wanna write my stories and hang out with the people that like me for Me... of which there are some, thank you very much.)  
> \- SHOW US YOUR REAL NAME AND FACE, VILLAIN! (Uh... sure. That sounds super safe! Look, I don’t think SissyTigerWarlock over there has that on her birth certificate either, so...)  
> \- YOU’RE BEING FUCKY! (I like to quote Shakespeare and Nietzsche and Gaiman... I have a day job in a hospital; this is where I can let my Geek Flag fly. I also talk about nickelodeon ninja turtles, BBC’s talking animals, Canadian politics and whether Gonzaga’s going to advance in the finals, but you seem to conveniently miss all that. C’mon guys. Lay off.)  
> \- YOU’RE STILL TALKING ABOUT SHERLOCK! (We ALL... Ok. I give up.)
> 
> We could probably add volumes to the compendium of ARG stuff, but I would imagine other people had similar experiences and the gist of it was the degree of blight that this left on the internal and outward reputation of BBC Sherlock. Forgive the self-centered, naval-gazing that probably sounds inflated, but it’s just an example of how messed up an online fanDumb can get, and it’s important to think about that in general terms. (Sherlock is probably one of the worst, due to the very personal and hyper-sensitive nature of Its identity-crisis, but don’t think this kind of thing doesn’t happen with Star Wars fans too!) 
> 
> It is just a truly bizarre experience to tweet something, then watch your Notifications bump from 1 to 99+ in a matter of a minute... knowing that some of those people like you, some like you TOO MUCH and some absolutely loathe your guts. At my peak, I only had a few hundred followers. I can only imagine what famous people go through... though famous people tend to have more resources to protect themselves, I guess. Amazingly, I did actually get a few death-threat emails and messages. I got death threats from people who really thought I was Mofftiss and were threatening me over how bad S4 was. I got death threats from Furies that thought I was pretending to be Mofftiss on purpose just to toy with people. And I got death threats that concluded: “Just kidding. Love your writing; not bad for an amateur. Don’t listen to the people who just want to kill you.”
> 
> If you, Newbie, are a relatively sane person, you are probably wondering why I didn’t just shut my whole thing down. (If you are my actual Dad, Easter dinner is bound to contain some shouting about how stupid and reckless I am... which is good, because it will eclipse the shouting about the gay for a bit, I guess.)
> 
> Well, I did shut it down, of course. I was terrified.
> 
> And then, after thinking about it a bit, I rebooted it. Still terrified. But the reasons that I had to were more important.


	24. Scene Twenty-three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee. Ukrainians. I am half Scots/Irish-mix, half Ukrainian; all Canadian. Plus, this reference was also a shout-out to Russia at the time that was gearing up for all that annexing bullshit. LEAVE 'EM ALONE, YOU BULLIES!

23\. INT. BART’S LAB – DAY 

MOLLY  
I... I was just...  
(Falters, fiddles lab stuff)

SHERLOCK  
Just postulating. Though it really shouldn’t be our job; we’re not retained by Scotland Yard to correct your deficiencies.

LESTRADE  
Molly, honestly. This is not healthy for him. And you...  
(Points an accusing finger at  
SHERLOCK)  
Give it here.

SHERLOCK  
(Pretends that he is working)  
I didn’t know you had a cat, Detective Inspector.

In the background, MOLLY looks slightly uncomfortable.

LESTRADE  
Oh, don’t change the subject. You’ve been “borrowing” evidence again, haven’t you?  
(Rummages around lab and finds  
box, pulls out torn smoke bomb  
bag and other items)

SHERLOCK  
Found at the animal rights protest. A bag from the same deli where you should have found a bullet.

LESTRADE  
That hardly means anything...

SHERLOCK  
A partial print from the steps of the Nobel House matched to one found at the West Ham Bombing.

LESTRADE  
Thousands of people travel those ways everyday. Bit of a leap there, don’t you think?

SHERLOCK  
And finally, alcohol content of Wembley’s Shield-Day kegs found to be double the standard. In the concession stand with an employee who works part-time in a West Ham ticket booth.

LESTRADE  
Coincidences, Sherlock! 

SHERLOCK  
Oh, the universe is rarely so lazy.

LESTRADE  
(Stepping up close to him)  
Look, the reason I came here... other than hoping to retrieve police property... is to give you a friendly warning. 

SHERLOCK  
(Sniffs deeply)  
Hmm. Body Shop vanilla with a faint hint of formaldehyde. Fairly unique combination...  
(Steps around LESTRADE and  
tries to continue looking into  
the microscope)

LESTRADE  
Sherlock.  
(Holds up deli bag)  
Leave the Ukrainians alone. 

SHERLOCK  
... but a scent that I’ve grown comfortable with.  
(Large fake smile)  
And I see you that now you have too...

MOLLY looks very uncomfortable.

LESTRADE  
And don’t go around the Bealy’s place again. You are going to compromise the trial. Don’t you get that?! You can’t keep poking around his family, asking questions... I’m surprised they haven’t called the cops on you...

SHERLOCK  
They’ve been most cooperative, given the fact that they have already lost their eldest child and they know my goal is to knock the charges of their youngest down from murder to armed assault...

LESTRADE  
What the hell are you on about? He fired the kill-shot.

SHERLOCK  
Oh, my brother thought it was him too. 

LESTRADE  
Mycroft?

SHERLOCK  
His last words.  
(As if to himself:)  
And to think that I believed he was actually talking about me.  
(Back to LESTRADE)  
Mycroft could see them over my body. He must have deduced the relationship between the two shooters in the moment before he fell.

LESTRADE  
Well, there you go. You yourself always said he was never wrong...

SHERLOCK  
Well, there’s got to be a first time for everything. For God’s sake, Lestrade. I have dug up Bealy’s entire life... do you know what I found?

LESTRADE  
What?

SHERLOCK  
Nothing! He’s not a marksman. He’s not a criminal mastermind and he has no connections with anyone who is. He is a screwed-up druggie kid that did what the neighborhood leader... Trevor Bealy... always told him to do. He doesn’t even know that his actions played a cover for someone else...  
(Snorts dismissively)  
Forget it. How could I expect your tiny mind to comprehend...

LESTRADE  
(More kindly)  
Sherlock, look. I’ve lost friends that way and it hurts. It never...

SHERLOCK  
Is this going to be your usual arrangement?

LESTRADE  
Uh. What do you mean?

SHERLOCK tilts his head in MOLLY’S direction, who now looks painfully uncomfortable.

LESTRADE  
I don’t... I don’t know what you’re...

SHERLOCK  
Oh, come on. It’s been obvious since my brother’s funeral. Why, the way you behaved with each other...

LESTRADE  
We didn’t even speak to each other that day...  
(Trails off)

SHERLOCK  
Exactly. Odd, wouldn’t you say?

MOLLY sends LESTRADE a withering look as she gathers some papers and begins to leave the room.

LESTRADE  
What?! I didn’t tell him.

MOLLY  
(Sighs, departs)  
You just did.

SHERLOCK raises his eyebrows triumphantly at LESTRADE, while he puts on his coat and begins to walk out.

LESTRADE  
(Following him)  
My divorce has been final since...  
(SHERLOCK makes no reply.)  
It’s none of your bloody business.  
(Still nothing.)  
You’re just doing this to change the subject.

SHERLOCK  
(Quietly)  
It’s working.

They pass through the lab and begin to cross a staff lounge area. A television is on in the corner.

REPORTER  
...there are many who feel that parliament needs to do more to stem the rising tide of these incidents, yet the resistance for Bill 101 is still thought to be running fairly even. You can see, in this representation of MP’s votes...

GRAPHIC on screen is a map of districts, showing by different colours, which are pro, con and undecided.

SHERLOCK watches the television with a quizzical expression.

LESTRADE  
You need to let this go, Sherlock. It’s been almost six months and you are no closer to finding any kind of real connection...

SHERLOCK  
Why don’t we ask the Moo-Cow?  
(Nods toward television)

LESTRADE  
Christ, that’s an ugly coat.

SHERLOCK  
(Quietly)  
Spring and fall weather.  
(To LESTRADE)  
You recognize her?

LESTRADE  
Just from One News. A lot more lately, come to think of it.

REPORTER  
For BBC One, this is Dalia Pike.

SHERLOCK  
(Smirking)  
An up-and-comer. Quickly rising career. Certainly seems to have knack for being in the right place at the right time for a scoop, doesn’t she?

LESTRADE  
Look, I have to get back, so...  
(Looks back at SHERLOCK)

SHERLOCK is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right before I tried to shut down, I got dozens of nasty DMs from Furies. One person, however, messaged with something to the effect of: ‘Oh, you poor dear. You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?’
> 
> She was savvy, alright... she’d been around the fandom from near the beginning and was a wise, quiet chronicler of sorts. (Turned out I had been acquainted with her blog when I was first researching TJLC two years prior.) She once described herself and her contemporaries as benevolent missionaries, wandering about the S4 blast crater, handing out tea and shock blankets. Back-stage, we had a friendship of a few months, where she helped me out with the context, made me laugh and feel better and she tried to help my stalkers get off the idea that I was Mofftiss. 
> 
> We also swapped songs and fics and reminders of why we loved the Fandom, and debated what the PTB were actually planning. Savvy did not believe me that there was cause to hope for a 5th Act. I don’t blame her... everyone had been through a lot. And I didn’t know the 3rd thing yet... the clue that snapped everything into focus for me, so I couldn’t prove anything to her at the time. But she was an unexpected blessing to touch hands with through the glass, and she protected me when I needed it most.
> 
> Sometimes, however, I went against her advice.
> 
> Ironically (maybe? I have a hard time with irony), the main reason I rebooted Pike almost immediately was safety... mine and others. 
> 
> I figured that just deleting the account or my stories wouldn’t actually make people give up; it would just make me seem more mysterious/guilty and people that were having difficulty grappling with reality would ARG-harder and spin it woollier. Since people had screen-capped and shared so much of my info, I couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle, but if my presence remained, then at least the original truth of what I had actually said and done stood in the record. And kindred spirits would be able to quietly report to me if any doxing had actually been successful. In the unlikely event of anything going REALLY sideways, I would have a means to collect information for protection or legal recourse, and a platform for maintaining the core voice of my matters. 
> 
> This was important for protecting myself, but also for the safety of the few individuals that (I had been informed) were truly having some major mental breakdowns over the Game. Basically, Pike needed to stick around, so that they (or therapists/family attempting to help them) could get the true context straight from the horse’s mouth (horse’s ass... whatever; the horse itself...) if they were looking for it. I have often wondered what the parents of some of the immature members of the Fandom would think about the whole thing (it has only recently occurred to me that this record is perhaps spread too thinly... too tedious and nebulous for an Outsider to piece together... hence one reason for this comprehensive post.)
> 
> I had always held Pike to a fairly strict moral code, but the “Rules of Engagement” now became more important than ever:  
> 1) Be open to hear what other people have to say, but  
> 2) Stand firm in your own beliefs  
> 3) Try to be funny (and, failing this, try to be kind)  
> 4) Never tell a lie
> 
> I also mostly kept to myself and spoke to others only when spoken to (or about... on the occasions I randomly tripped over a conversation of which I was the subject). I did block a few people if they pissed me off, but I didn’t tend to delete comments or block people based on second-hand information. With very limited exceptions, I didn’t really trust my followers intentions and didn’t want to play sides, or trigger a cascade of events beyond my understanding. And, of course, most of the people I blocked would show up again with new aliases.
> 
> I’ll admit... there was a second reason I stuck around. I was a microcosmic example of a floundering, coming-out human and a traveler in the World Wild Web. People—without caring about the context—were telling me I was a liar and an evil, immoral person. (I am actually down-playing a lot of Fury’s rhetoric, not inflating it, when I imitate them here.) They were trying to make me go away, or (if unsuccessful in that) they were going to define me by their terms. They wanted to see me as something that I really, truly wasn’t and would cast the data in whatever light necessary to prove this foregone conclusion. 
> 
> If you see this sort of thing personally, it is disheartening, but when you see it thematically, it is FASCINATING. If I backed down and gave up my Self (which ‘Dale Pike’ really IS, even though it’s not the name on my driver’s license), it would be setting a really bad example for other similar humans. Especially younger ones. Especially queer ones.
> 
> Not on my watch.
> 
> (a la Michael Bolton’s Jack Sparrow: NOW BACK TO THE GOOD PART!!)


	25. Scene Twenty-four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's phone diversion harkening the previous Scottish-independence referendum still cracks me up. Sorry. Too soon? Too soon. Or just relevant again, I suppose.

24\. INT. TELEVISION NEWS STUDIO – DAY 

SHERLOCK stands across a desk from an attractive young woman in a PANT-SUIT. 

PANT-SUIT  
Well, Mr Holmes, we will, um, do our best to accommodate your request, but I...

SHERLOCK  
(Charming)  
Thank you. Oh, and also, since you feature me so often, I’d really appreciate it if you would send someone to light me properly. Last time, my nose looked like Big Ben...

PANT-SUIT  
Yes... well...  
(Her phone rings and she  
gratefully answers it.)  
Excuse me a moment... Hello, Public Relations?

Angry voice on other end, barely audible but sounds like JOHN, badly faking a Scottish accent.

JOHN (O.S.)  
Och, listen, you! I have a complaint to make...

PANT-SUIT  
Err... yes, sir. If you’ll just allow me one minute...

JOHN (O.S.)  
I’ll no’ be transferred again! Look, I’ve had a good... looong... think about it and your coverage of the referendum was completely one-sided...

PANT-SUIT gives SHERLOCK an uncomfortable look and he stands up to leave.

PANT-SUIT  
Sir...  
(Makes a helpless gesture)

JOHN (O.S.)  
No’ since Iraq ‘ave I seen the News working at propaganda strength like that...

SHERLOCK gestures that he can find his own way out and backs out of office. Heads opposite to the exit.

SHERLOCK sneaks around the news desks, garnering some attention but no interference.

Finds the vacant desk of Dalia Pike. Looks through schedule.

Reads on October 30th: “St. Dismas Church. 9:00pm”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepe-the-Frog: “Whoa, Ese! Bitches be crazy... check out the Sherlock hoes going loco, Man! They say they chicks should rule the world instead, but just look at the womyn’s-inhu-womb-ity-to-womyn goin’ down, Mad-Max style!”
> 
> Pike: Don’t be so boring, Pepe... should every serf in your kingdom be defined by the worst of its pack behaviour? No? Most of the bitches here be absolutely beautiful and bad-ass, so now I’m going to talk about them. Play nice in my sandbox, or I’ll put your green ass over my knee. Here’s a slogan for you: Fuck Incels. Why don’t you go put it on a T-shirt? I’m sure everyone in the world will find it funny on multiple levels and you’ll make a shit-ton of money, so there you go now... off you pop.
> 
> The third reason I stuck around was, of course, because the majority of the Sherlock fandom is smart and funny and cool and a blast for people that could separate the fun from the obsession. It’s hard to tell (because I wasn’t about to do deep-dive background checks on every single person that came my way... uh... that’s weird, Fury) but I’d say that a solid 80-90% were just having a lark with me. I am especially fond of the folks that wrote lucid, thoughtful comments in support of the Dale, or chummed around with me because they really did like my writing. I would have liked to have to talk to them more and given WAY more props to their fan-art, fics, etc. that I thought were cool (I usually didn’t, only because I didn’t want to create ARG-spin around their stuff... the kiss of Pike could be deadly.) 
> 
> Coming to mind now... there were many awesome memes that made me knee-slap when I saw them. There are some seriously deep and detailed meta analyses on Tumblr (“finalproblem” has often been a favourite of mine) that get into the fantastic nitty-gritties of historical research and broader context. There were a number of steamy-yet-exceptionally well-written fics that were spot-on (including an Adlock fic I remember that was really one of the best Johnlock fics I’ve read). There were fan-art of series scenes made with Legos or dominos, or paintings of lesbian renditions of characters with a redheaded female Sherlock wailing out on a saxophone (“winding our way down Baker St...”) and really; who can find fault with THAT? (Not Pepe, I’ll tell you that much.)
> 
> Then there was this kid (?) that always cracked hilariously random-yet-insightful jokes and just wanted to know what kind of cereal everyone ate (?!) and because I didn’t understand the context, I didn’t reply, but then a few weeks later, they were trash-talking my Twitter, so I was like Yo. Crispix. and they were like WHOA and I obviously just blooffed their mind and they were like SWEET catch you later, Mama. It was like we had this awesome momentary virtual fist-bump across the planet. 
> 
> This. THIS. This beautiful minutiae is what Fandom should be.
> 
> I think, as with many controversial issues, the majority of intelligent, middle-of-the-road fans backed off because of the intensity of the few. I feel sorry for the good people we’ve lost. I can’t really call them ‘Come-Rounders’, because not all of them will. These are the ‘Ghosts’ in my ‘Three Fables’, but perhaps that’s not the best name for them either.
> 
> They are the Soldiers.
> 
> The Soldiers of this fandom were a support to a lot of people that maybe don’t have the luxury of safety to be queer in their real lives. I had many comments and messages that talked about our stories and interactions being a way to navigate feeling better about BBC Sherlock, or about who they were as a queer person. Navigate... yeah, I said that on purpose. I’m totally your Moriarty*... if you think I’m just a villain, it’s because you haven’t figured out what I really AM yet. And I did tell you. Repeatedly.
> 
> My story is interesting because I got to experience both sides of Fandom... being inside it, but also (briefly, to a very small degree) being the Object of it. From that perspective, I gained a microcosmic window into what it must actually feel like to be a famous writer. My previous assumptions had been correct. They don’t listen to us (much). The ocean of voices seething around them is too loud and discordant (and would be scary if you let it scare you). If you tried to listen to everything, you would drown. The only way to survive is to listen mostly to your own heartbeat and just keep swimming.


	26. Scene Twenty-five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to play with the dichotomy of Good vs. Evil Mary in my stories too... it's how she was originally intended I think: to keep you guessing.
> 
> But she's Good.
> 
> She is.
> 
> No. Hold that thought... I'm getting to it...

25\. EXT. STREET NEAR CHURCH – NIGHT 

SHERLOCK walks along a dark street, wearing a disguise, not his usual coat, his eyes taking in scene. No sign of reporter. Views church.

Church doors are open, a few stragglers mingling inside, as if a meeting has just ended and most have left. SHERLOCK begins to ascend steps.

MARY  
Sherlock?!

He turns, sees her approaching hurriedly from the other side of the street. She halts at the edge of the sidewalk, looking behind him. 

MARY  
(Nervously.)  
Sherlock. Come here.

SHERLOCK  
Mary? This isn’t your usual...

MARY  
I need you to walk me to my car.

There is a sudden rumble from within the church. Her eyes dart behind him and her voice breaks into a shout.

MARY  
Come on. Now!

SHERLOCK begins to move toward her, puzzled.

A second louder rumble, then an explosion rips through the church, knocking him to the ground. 

SHERLOCK POV: buzzing, ringing, muted sound, disoriented view of the inside of the church on fire through the doors behind him.

MARY kneeling at his side, dragging him to his feet and across the street. They collapse on a lawn opposite. 

MARY speaking to him, no sound.

SHERLOCK  
(Shaking head, blinking)  
What...

MARY  
Lie down.

SHERLOCK  
We have to...  
(Staggers, dizzy)

MARY  
(On phone)  
Fire. Ambulance...  
(Continues to speak into phone as SHERLOCK ignores her advice  
and gets to his feet)

The fire burns. Further rumblings are heard. There is no way they can go in. He watches and she joins him, in the middle of the street, returning the phone to her pocket.

A side entrance door bursts open and a man, coat aflame, lurches out. SHERLOCK breaks into a run, following him. The man collapses.

SHERLOCK throws his coat off and onto the man, smothering the flames. MARY catches up and assists. They roll him over.

The man is dead, badly burned. Through his torn shirt, part of a tattoo is visible on his chest: black wings. MARY quickly flips the coat closed to cover it.

SHERLOCK  
What do we...?  
(Readying for CPR)

MARY  
He’s dead, Sherlock.

SHERLOCK  
You’re a nurse...!

MARY  
You know I’m not.  
(Beat)  
Leave it.  
(Beat)  
Trust me.

They stare at each other and then the church, gasping for breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I realized that this “Game” was going to be longer than originally thought, I faded away from writing stories or hanging out on the Pike Twitter. I think a lot of other Soldiers of more stable stripe did the same thing. So I can’t tell you what happened in the Fandom then... for my own sanity, I paid very little attention to it.
> 
> Begging your patience for a brief synopsis of real life... I spent 2016-2018ish coming to terms with my own “Case of Identity”. Trinket was the first person I told... since it was intuitive that she had always known anyway. But she was up to her neck in the river of her own life, and these conversations were of a general nature, not a romantic one. The funny thing is... even if she had been “free” and willing, that isn’t what I wanted at the time. A lot of people think queerness is just about who you want to fuck. It isn’t. It isn’t even really about who you want to love.
> 
> It’s about who you want to be.
> 
> And then I told my sister, who—bless her—responded with something like “Well... that does make a lot of sense.” 
> 
> And then I told my husband. And, after having just gotten through all of my own, I repeated the Kubler Ross stages through his eyes. This news devastated our marriage and, through the ashes of that devastation, we had to get up each day, go to work, pay bills, change light-bulbs, unclog drains, weather illnesses, endure family occasions and, most importantly, maintain stability—not appearances—but stability: calm, caring normalcy for our preschool-aged son.
> 
> There are many stories about coming out later in life that involve running from one partner into the arms of another. The fact that this was not my case was both blessing and curse. Blessing, because I could not imagine making my life any messier at that point in time. Curse, because it makes the gravity of the issue so much more intangible, ethereal... especially to straight people. One must continually reaffirm to others—and to oneself—that, yes. This matters. There is a reason for all this mess. That reason is Me.
> 
> My husband and I are both completely non-religious, but I think we navigated our wasteland using the one piece of scripture that had sealed our wedding. For the most part, we tried to not to dishonor each other, to not be self-seeking or easily angered, to not keep record of wrongs.
> 
> He wasn’t always perfect. That’s where Pike’s fandom experience really came in handy... the ability to separate the criticisms that I needed to take to heart from the ones that I really didn’t. And the “Rules of Engagement” became a life-raft: Listen openly, but stand your ground. Laugh, if able. Never lie.
> 
> I wasn’t perfect either. But one day, when I was in the throes of a particularly teary snit, he chuckled at me and imitated my sentiments in a Darth Vader voice: “I’m altering the Deal. Pray I do not alter it any further.” (Yeah, he’s a funny fucker too... it’s why we get along so well.) 
> 
> Ultimately, I think he came to acceptance easier than most husbands would because of two things. One, he really did see the divine in me. 
> 
> Two. He’s pretty divine himself. 
> 
> How’s my word-count, Honey? Oh, okay. Flanders sucks.


	27. Scene Twenty-six

26 INTERCUT – EXT. STREET/INT. CAB – NIGHT 

Firefighters finish extinguishing flames, police interview witnesses. LESTRADE investigates the scene.

SHERLOCK and MARY sit on the other side of the fleet of emergency vehicles, “shock” blankets over their shoulders. 

MARY   
(Into phone)  
Well, you’ll get here when you get here, then. Although you really shouldn’t have...  
(Pauses, listens)  
I know Kate doesn’t mind watching her, but I’m fine. I wasn’t even there...  
(Pauses)  
Because he’s with me.  
(Pauses, continues dryly)  
Yeah. Here he is.

She passes it over.

SHERLOCK  
(Into phone)  
John.  
INTERCUT:  
JOHN  
(In cab, into phone)  
What the hell is going on?

SHERLOCK  
Mary’s alright. She was down the street from the church when it happened. We’re just stuck here as witnesses now.

JOHN  
And you were investigating I take it? So what happened... what really happened?!

SHERLOCK  
You’re in a cab?

JOHN  
Yeah. Traffic is terrible. I’ll have to walk the last block, I think.

SHERLOCK  
Hang up now. I’ll fill you in later.

JOHN  
(Suspiciously)  
Why?

SHERLOCK  
I don’t trust cabbies.  
(Hangs up. To MARY, coldly)  
Start talking.

MARY  
You heard me tell Lestrade. I was supposed to meet a friend at her congregation. I was late...

SHERLOCK  
Fibbing.

MARY  
I...

SHERLOCK  
I’m not John. I can tell when you’re fibbing.

MARY  
(Cocks head in ironic   
disagreement)  
Well...

SHERLOCK  
(Hushed angry tone)  
You have the length one city block divided by your husband’s gait speed to convince me that you should not, in fact, be leaving here for Scotland Yard instead.

MARY  
I saved your life tonight. For the second time.

SHERLOCK  
Oh, yes. Not the only thing you’ve done twice. What do the French say? Jamais deux sans trois?

MARY  
I...

SHERLOCK  
Three stores out of gelatin. Hmmm. You had time enough to... oh, I don’t know... go to Smith Square and back?!

MARY  
I’m not a terrorist, Sherlock.

SHERLOCK  
Are you a freedom-fighter, then? I think there’s an expression about that too.

MARY  
You don’t seriously have any proof that I caused this, or you would have turned me in by now.  
(Glancing around to ensure they   
are not overheard)  
I was approached by... former employers. Friends. To whom I owe my life. They asked for my assistance in their investigation. You aren’t the only person operating under the theory that there is more at work here than would seem. I was uniquely able to identify a person of interest; someone who goes by many aliases. 

SHERLOCK  
And did you?

MARY  
This time. Yes.

SHERLOCK  
Then the police...

MARY   
(Nods toward the still, covered   
figure on gurney by ambulance)  
It doesn’t matter now. Something obviously didn’t go as he planned tonight. But... since he was involved, my people are right. These are not random acts of violence. He was a cog in a much bigger machine.

SHERLOCK  
Which is?

MARY  
I don’t know.  
(SHERLOCK narrows eyes.)  
No, really. I know that it’s big. I know that it’s more dangerous than jobs I used to turn down. I’m just a cog too, Sherlock. And my job is now finished. I would rather change nappies and bake cakes than get deeper into this.

SHERLOCK  
Have you given all your information to the police?

MARY  
Have you? How’s that going for you? I wonder where they will prove more competent... in cracking this case or protecting my family afterward? 

SHERLOCK  
Connect me with your people.

MARY  
No. You can’t guarantee you’ll keep John out of it.

SHERLOCK  
Neither can you!

MARY  
Let’s reduce the degrees of freedom then.  
(Nods to JOHN approaching)  
Do you trust me?

SHERLOCK  
(Watches JOHN’S face as he   
arrives and he hugs his wife)  
Do I have a choice?

JOHN  
What?! Jesus, Mary.  
(Holds her tighter)  
Where’s Cecily?

MARY  
Not here. She had already left, I was so late.

They begin all walking together.

JOHN  
How many were...?

MARY  
Four.

SHERLOCK  
Five. Four in the meeting hall, one on the lawn. I haven’t been able to do much looking around...

They pass a news team, the spotted-coat REPORTER speaking into microphone. SHERLOCK eyes her warily.

REPORTER  
...at this terrible scene. Police are saying there had been some threats made, seemingly tied to an extremist affiliation of the IRA... 

JOHN  
And you’re not going to. You’re coming with us, Sherlock.

(To LESTRADE, who approaches)  
Look, Greg, you know where to find us. We’re leaving.

LESTRADE  
(At SHERLOCK)  
I warned you. Do you have any idea how much heat I take for covering for you? Someone else would haul you in!

SHERLOCK  
As what?

LESTRADE  
A suspect. You can’t keep showing up at these without someone connecting those dots...

SHERLOCK  
(Sarcastically)  
Yes. Because that’s your forte.

LESTRADE  
(To JOHN)  
I haven’t seen him wired like this since he was using and I busted him as a plainclothes...

MARY  
You busted him? That’s how you two met?

SHERLOCK  
He’s exaggerating. I never...

LESTRADE  
(To JOHN)  
You know what this is all about. Take him home. Make him finish his damn statement and get some closure for Chrissakes.

JOHN  
What statement?

SHERLOCK tries to wave this off angrily.

LESTRADE  
Victim Personal Statement. For the Bealy sentencing this week.   
(To SHERLOCK)  
Yeah, I saw what you submitted so far. Four words: My brother is dead. Enormously touching.

SHERLOCK  
(Almost shouting)  
My statement is finished! It’s a ridiculous sentimental process that should have no impact on legal procedure! And they’re about to sentence the wrong man! 

LESTRADE  
(Humourless chuckle)  
Oh. Oh, now I get it. That’s what this is all about.

SHERLOCK  
(Livid)  
What?!

LESTRADE  
You need this to be a part of a big conspiracy. You can’t stand the thought that one of the Holmes’ brothers could be brought down by a street thug like a mere mortal...

SHERLOCK   
(Starts to walk away)  
Fine, Greg. Solve your cases on your own. You’d still be a sergeant... 

LESTRADE  
Good enough for the rest of us humans, but...

SHERLOCK whirls around, grabs LESTRADE by the lapels, throws him up against a nearby tree. 

For a few breaths, he is speechless with rage as JOHN tries to wedge in between them. LESTRADE actually looks scared.

SHERLOCK  
You... moron.

Shoves LESTRADE roughly as he lets go and storms off. JOHN and MARY follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then, out of the blue, when I wasn’t even trying, I solved Sherlock.
> 
> It ended up happening very similarly to the edited version of the conversation in the beginning notes of my previous post, The Three Fables. Trinket and I were discussing the pit-falls of modern day screen-writing in the aftermath of Game of Thrones (ugh) and it suddenly just clicked for me. I had tried to leave Sherlock behind me, but of course I had never been able to completely put it out of my brain. The mystery remained unsolved.
> 
> And nobody likes an unsolved mystery.
> 
> My previous story centers around the WHEN but the date is really just click-bait. I mean... it IS a really good guess. I truly don’t think they put that March 8 clue in for minimal-to-no reason... especially when the rest of S4 is peppered with assurances to the keen eyes that the story of Sherlock was not complete. And I’ve always thought that the “throwing of the hat” in TAB was very important... it is the turning point of the whole story.
> 
> The other Twitter account that I mentioned earlier was my 1895DoG account (“Days of Gatiss”). Mark Gatiss’s real twitter was blocking all the angry fans barraging it with protest tweets (and rightly so!) So, I’d had an idea... maybe I’d just send him one tweet a day for 1895 days. Now, he would never notice this, of course. But, if I kept it up, others probably would, and if it went on for a couple years... it might hit that “It’s-So-Ridiculous-It’s-Hilarious” traction. At the time, I wasn’t entirely sure if Sherlock would ever come back... if it didn’t; I wanted to be the fan that played the Long Game in protest. And... key to the account’s success... I wasn’t ever nasty on it. Just goofy. A lot of it didn’t even have anything to do with Sherlock at all: it would just circle around the point. 
> 
> Best case scenario: maybe someday ‘Den of Geek’ would feature it and people would revel in my various witty remarks. Worst case? I’d have my own virtual diary of reflection and dorkiness.
> 
> I never kept it up. (I was bored with it after a couple weeks, and it also got sucked up in the ARG-play, so I shut it down.) But I had once calculated: 1895 days is roughly five years and two months. Now if you start counting when Sherlock throws the hat and you count 1895 days, you come to...
> 
> March 10. Because THAT would be too easy. But March 8th gives you 1893... the year The Yellow Face was published. (A story that is key for Norbury and for thematic reasons.) And all of Series 4 is practically flooded with the colour yellow... in a show that is well-known by nerds for its use of colour coding. March 8th, 2021. Four years after the airing of S4. (Because most people give up after three.)
> 
> *Brief aside: neat little Doctor Who parallel, also written by Moffat and aired at the same time as TAB did... ‘Last Christmas’ is thematically about dreams-within-dreams and how to figure out when things are not as they seem. And it is also drenched in yellow. (Plus... this might be a long shot... but the Doctor and Clara wind up in front of a fireplace set at the end that looks rather familiar... although that could just be “BBC reusing its sets”.)
> 
> Now. There’s a lot of evidence to refute this theory (as people posted in the comments of Three Fables). It could be the return date, or it could be just the date BBC starts promo-ing a return. Or it’s completely wrong and there is no return date. Whatever. It’s not the point. The point is not WHEN they planned to do the Lost Special, but HOW. Thinking about the when just got me thinking about the how. And I so, I watched S4 for the second time.


	28. Scene Twenty-seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still like how I made little Abby the 'conductor of light' for Sherlock in this scene.
> 
> You really shouldn't put kid characters into TV shows unless you're going to make interesting use of them. Sherlock's "rattle" scene with Rosie in Six Thatchers is so predictably trite. I honestly think the character of Sherlock Holmes would actually find children fascinating. Children ARE fascinating. And they are the epitome of a scientist... they do not have biases or subjectivity... they simply explore their natural world with curiosity and methodology.
> 
> But Gatiss wrote that episode, so I guess we have to give him a break.

27\. INT. WATSON RESIDENCE – NIGHT 

Establishing shots; preparations for guest bedroom, JOHN and MARY settling down for the night. 

MARY comes out into darkened kitchen for a drink. A voice from the shadows startles her.

SHERLOCK  
Why John? 

MARY  
(Almost drops glass)  
What...?! Sherlock, you...

SHERLOCK  
(Quietly)  
You. With your people. Your former employers. You, with your connections to the machine, as you put it. So, why him? Why did you choose him?

MARY  
Funny that asking that question hasn’t occurred to you until now.   
(SHERLOCK stares her down.)  
There was a reason. An association. But it stopped mattering to me a long time ago. And now that reason no longer exists at all.

SHERLOCK  
(To himself, sighing)  
Oh, stupid. Of course.

MARY  
Go on. Ask what you want to ask.

SHERLOCK  
Why was my brother was killed?

MARY  
I don’t know. I swear... on my life... I would tell you if I did. I think, Sherlock, you may have to entertain the possibility that you will never know the reason.

Up the stairs, a soft light is on. Sounds of ABBY fussing and JOHN singing “Mary had a Little Lamb” quietly. SHERLOCK looks toward the stairs.

SHERLOCK  
If they come to harm, Mary, I swear...

MARY  
Likewise.

SHERLOCK  
You have to admit that your devotion as a wife and mother... your complete transformation into this life... could be viewed as improbable.

MARY regards him neutrally.

SHERLOCK  
John is a wonderful, loyal, humble and giving person, Mary, but he is just a man. I’m supposed to believe that, so soon after you met him, your love for him changed everything that you were?

MARY  
(Knowing smile)  
Oh, Sherlock. Is that really so impossible for you to believe?

They hold each other’s gaze.

SHERLOCK  
You used to be a murderer.

MARY  
And you didn’t.

She passes him on her way to the stairs, approaching JOHN, who is coming down with ABBY on his shoulder. 

JOHN  
She just can’t sleep.

MARY  
(Exasperated sigh)  
Same as last night. I swear she just does it to us on purpose.

JOHN  
(Fondly)  
Everyone has some kind of demons in their head. Go to bed. I’ll walk her around a bit.  
(Hums to his daughter as he sways around the kitchen; smiles at SHERLOCK)  
See? Your dancing lessons continue to come in handy!

“DANCING” and “DEMONS” hover in text near SHERLOCK’S head. He looks at ABBY. 

An image from his mind palace snaps up: the sign and the stick-men logos on the carnival truck that passed behind MYCROFT, as he was shot.

SHERLOCK  
(Softly)  
That’s it!

JOHN  
What is it?

SHERLOCK  
(Hushed but excitedly)  
I know where it is, John!

SHERLOCK leans in and kisses ABBY’s head, to JOHN’S surprise before rushing off in a quiet hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. The first time I’d watched S4, in January of 2017, was on a boot-legged download with poor audio quality. And I was with... oh, let’s call him Itch... who is a mutual friend of me and Trinket. Itch also has a crush on Trinket, and BOY! is he ever barking up the wrong tree. You might say it’s cruel of me to laugh about that, until I tell you that he is also the sort of person that can’t watch a TV show without YAMMERING HIS OPINIONS THROUGH THE WHOLE DAMN THING. (I know, right?!) Then afterward... I was so disgusted with BBC and so disheartened with the state of the Fandom that I couldn’t force myself to revisit all of S4 until I had the yellow-face-date theory slap me in the face in May of 2019. Prior to that, it just hurt too much to watch.
> 
> Which was a shame. Because, if you just pay attention, it’s pretty obvious what S4 is about. Honestly. I probably could have solved this by March 8, 2017 if I’d just kept a clear head about the whole thing. Anyone could have, really. Yes, anyone. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: lotta good minds in the Fan-Dumb. Lotta good soldiers fallen, only because they gave in to pack behaviour... or they didn’t, but The Pack chewed ‘em up and spit ‘em out. 
> 
> For The Record, my husband (not much of a fan—understandably, heh—who watched S4 without me in 2017) called it IMMEDIATELY and (mostly) correctly:
> 
> “This is Gatiss. League-of-Gentleman Gatiss. JOKE-SHOP-SKETCH GATISS. They’re annoyed by the idiocy of their audience. And they’re just fucking with you guys.”
> 
> Me: “Yeah, but what could it possibly mean, though?!”
> 
> Him: “Damned if I know. YOU’RE the expert.”
> 
> So, Fury, if you get your knickers all in a twist about “I’ll-be-GAWD-DAMNED-if-I’m-gonna-believe-THAT-binch-solved-it-first... don’t. It wasn’t Dale Pike. 
> 
> It was Dale Pike’s completely non-fan, totally straight husband. Pike’s Mar(r)y, if you will.
> 
> Put that in your pipe and smoke it.


	29. Scene Twenty-eight

28\. INT. WATSON BEDROOM – DAY

JOHN blinks awake tiredly, reaching for MARY’S empty side of the bed. Glances at clock: 7:15am. Yawns and rolls over. 

SHERLOCK is standing quietly next to the bed, a overcoat on, sleeves too short for him. 

JOHN  
(Starting)  
Jesus! What are you doing?! And... is that the time? God, we went to bed three hours ago.

SHERLOCK  
(Awkwardly)  
Very sorry to wake you. I have something that should prove to be an interesting case for you to follow. I thought I should, at any rate, give you the chance.  
(Beat)  
Also, I need to borrow this coat. And your car.

JOHN  
(Tiredly)   
Wouldn’t miss it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s face it; other people have surely solved this. There are very smart pop-culture consumers out there in the world, with more than an amateur smattering of film theory that probably knew what Hartswood was doing with Series 4 at first glance.
> 
> I don’t think Lindsay Ellis is into Sherlock, but she’d probably see through this ruse no problem.
> 
> Oh, and Joss Whedon. I have no certainty of course, but I’m pretty sure THAT conversation went as follows:
> 
> J: “Oh, Steven. You scoundrel. Why do you get off torturing your fans like this?”
> 
> S: “It’s not my fault that I just cerebrally demand MORE of my audience, you ginger fool.”
> 
> J: “What? I’m so sorry... I can’t hear you from up here, over the sound of all the joy I’ve brought to millions of children and self-esteem to all my bad-ass Buffy bitches... you know: that “formula” you blatantly tried to rip-off for ‘Class’ and failed miserably?”
> 
> M: “Oh, snap!”
> 
> S: “Hush, you. I don’t know why Ian puts up with you!” (Cranes his neck upward.) Yeah... well. Way to... NOT... be revolutionarily diverse with Bucky and Steve...”
> 
> J: “Huh? I’m sorry. I just CAN’T hear you over the sound of all the fan-boys you pissed off with your egotistical Timelord denigration—like, seriously, man; was ‘Heaven Sent/Hell Bent’ just an experiment in Divine/Deplorable juxtaposition for you?!—not to mention the mass-triggering of all Millennial lesbians with tweed deerstalkers and riding crops under their beds. Like, why don’t I buy you lunch sometime, so I can enjoy your Scottish superciliousness in person?”
> 
> M: “Hmm, I’d like lunch...”
> 
> S: “Shut up... both of you.” 
> 
> J: “You’re right, Steven. You ARE the smart one. But you know what I did? I created the spirit of the Browncoat... of which Dale Pike the Iron Dike has drunk deeply. True, she came late to that game too... but that’s a Browncoat for you; ever the unexpected underdog. Do you know what a Browncoat is, Steve-O? They’re the bad-guys. They shun authority... in all its forms. They misbehave. Oh, and one more thing. When it seems as if all is lost...”
> 
> S: “I fail to see where you’re going with this...”
> 
> M: “Idiot. You know EXACTLY where she’s going with this.”
> 
> J: “...they never—ruttin’ EVER—give up.”
> 
> So, failing to find evidence of the above conversation on the internet, I casually looked around a bit for anyone else that may have decoded Sherlock in its entirety, sometime in the past three years.
> 
> Figuring that, surely, after three years, people had done so.
> 
> And, after three years, they'd given up hating Mary.
> 
> And given up playing an ARG with no end in sight.
> 
> Surely; the answer was out there, in all its full glory.
> 
> But I couldn’t find it. (If you have, link it in comments, please. They can be Darwin.) Fury’s not gonna like it, and I am the LAST person she wants to hear it from, so I was REALLY hoping that I wouldn’t have to be the One to straighten all this out.
> 
> (Okay... I’ll admit it. That was a lie. I’m enjoying myself immensely. But see? Pike tells lies only for joking’s sake... and immediately retracts them... which is more than can be said for Moftiss, that’s for damn sure.)


	30. Scene Twenty-nine

29\. EXT. HIGHWAY – DAY 

SHERLOCK drives, deep in thought. It’s obvious that JOHN has gotten nothing out of him in a while.

JOHN  
(Scanning countryside)  
Ah. So leaving London, then. 

SHERLOCK  
Cardiff.

JOHN  
Cardiff?

SHERLOCK   
Cardiff.

Pause.

JOHN  
What’s in Cardiff?

SHERLOCK hands him a paper out of his pocket and JOHN unfolds it: a print-out of flyer with locations/dates schedule. “The Dancing Demons Carnival.”

JOHN  
We’re going to a travelling fun fair?

SHERLOCK  
I need your assistance.

JOHN  
Apparent by the way you’re filling me in on your plan. 

SHERLOCK  
No plan really. We’re just going to go have a look.

JOHN  
We’re going to Wales... to have a look. Don’t see what you need me for. As you’re fond of reminding me, I always miss nearly everything of importance. And I don’t have a mind palace that would conjure up some obscure detail just because I’d heard two words.

SHERLOCK  
Of course you can have a mind palace; anyone can. Well... maybe more of an attic. But it’s a simple concept; observe... really observe... and code that knowledge in your brain. The hippocampus and amygdala; the gateways to memory. Categorize and classify and attach meaning to what you see... and you will be able to recall anything with the right trigger. Accurate recall: it’s the first step to the science of deduction. 

JOHN  
Lovely. We’re going to recall where to find a bullet in a carnival. I’d rather look for the needle in the haystack.

SHERLOCK  
Well... I may not need you to look, so much as just create a diversion for me...  
(Looks at JOHN)  
I didn’t tell you what we’re looking for.

JOHN  
What else would it be?

SHERLOCK  
(Looks away)  
I suppose now you’re going to tell me to give it up too.

JOHN  
Of course not.

SHERLOCK  
You don’t think it’s somewhat daft?

JOHN  
No. I think it’s completely daft.  
(Beat)  
But we have to try, right?

SHERLOCK stares at him. Seems touched.

JOHN  
Eyes. Eyes, Sherlock... eyes on road.

SHERLOCK  
Right.

JOHN  
Better yet, pull over.

SHERLOCK  
What? Why?

JOHN  
Because you’re wearing the same shirt as yesterday.

SHERLOCK  
So? I was at your house; this was all I...

JOHN  
And the day before.

SHERLOCK  
Oh. Uh.

JOHN  
Exactly how long has it been since you last slept? Pull over. I’m driving. Look, just kip out for half an hour.

SHERLOCK  
(Pulling over)  
You know I can’t sleep when I’m on a case...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright... I’m going to do a quick recap of the earlier thematic stuff before laying out what I think went down in S4 and what will happen beyond. This is because, when you’re on a journey, it’s occasionally good to take stock of where you’ve been, to see what you might have missed.
> 
> I’m going to preface this by saying that YES there are a shit-ton of other clues that draw from the stories, the novels, the films (especially Rathbone’s), from other branches of Nerd-dom, etc. and there are very good clue-finders out there (shout-out to finalproblem on Tumblr!) It’s AWESOME. Check all that stuff out if you have the free time and you’re having fun. But I really do think those details are the icing. The stuff I like dealing with is the cake. This story was written from the inside out... if you understand the structure, all the rest is just the window-dressing. It’s why some of the superficial plot nuances aren’t always perfect... because their primary goal is servicing the internal character-driven story.
> 
> ASiP: sets the stage, introduces our characters and their world, and gives us a case built around this theme: a “criminal” who walks unnoticed among us. He might seem bitter, but he’s clever... he “murders” people by offering them a choice. (Because that’s how being queer often feels: like being faced with an impossibly rigged game). A key piece of dialogue is Sherlock calling Mycroft his arch enemy and then making the comment “what do real people have, in their real lives?” John digresses into sussing out Sherlock’s romantic history... so that the audience moves on and MISSES the most important clue in the whole damn show: the superficial stories are fantastical; ridiculous, melodramatic, etc. Sherlock’s “arch enemy” is just his sibling. This is a REAL story, about REAL people. Doing real things. Honest things. Silly things. Cowardly things. Short-sighted things. Courageous things. Painful things. Human things. (BAM! Some of you lot are gonna get it ALL from just this paragraph alone. Off you pop!)
> 
> TBB: is more stage setting; the early days of John and Sherlock figuring out how to relate to each other. They solve a case that is about valuable things hidden in plain sight, and about secret codes *ahem* queer subtext. And note the final 2 scenes: shadowy figure has taken notice of them and is surveilling. A couple other exquisite points: Sebastian (harkening “Moran”) is not accidental; here is our weak-ass lesser villain... the type of person who makes our confident, intelligent Sherlock look like he feels inferior and vulnerable: a 1st brief window into his younger self and his human psyche. We also see our first bit-character pairing: Soo Lin is meant to represent Sherlock. Her brother? Obvious. Their story is a metaphorical version of the Holmes’ story. 
> 
> TGG: the curtain rises. A master “criminal” with an intellect to rival Sherlock plays a deadly game with him; which gets John and Sherlock to expose their priorities and style of bravery to each other. Sherlock thinks the whole purpose is to restore the security of a secret plan to his brother... but nope. That’s not Moriarty’s MO. (Moriarty don’t play Mycroft’s silly games! AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!)


	31. Scene Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it again:
> 
> Young Mycroft and Sherlock would make the best forts ever. Has anybody every fan-arted something like this? Please link in comments! 
> 
> Can "fan-art" be a verb? I'd pronounce it "fanNART" with a stuffy Brittish accent.

30\. INT. YOUNG SHERLOCK’S BEDROOM – NIGHT 

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
...everything just goes round and round my head and I can’t sleep.

YOUNG SHERLOCK sits under a hanging blanket, across from an uncomfortably hunched-over TEEN MYCROFT.

TEEN MYCROFT  
I know.

Outer view: it’s the coolest, most elaborate blanket fort the world has ever seen. Two figures in silhouette. 

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Holding up newspaper)  
I mean; it just doesn’t make sense. Why did he have to die? And where were his shoes?

TEEN MYCROFT  
We can phone Scotland Yard again in the morning if you like.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Viewed from back inside fort,   
he scoffs)  
The police are being useless.  
(Whistles)  
Redbeard! He’s been ignoring me all night...

TEEN MYCROFT  
Let’s play a game.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
I don’t have time for board-games. 

Sounds of a hushed argument downstairs get slightly louder. SHERLOCK winces sharply at the woman’s trill and blinks several times during the man’s softer response. 

TEEN MYCROFT   
(Raises eyebrow, pulls Cluedo out from under a pillow)  
No board then, just the cards.

They play, using only pointing and hand gestures for the game elements, while they continue their conversation.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
What do you think it was like?

TEEN MYCROFT  
What, drowning? Fast, I’d expect.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
Do you think he knew he was dying?

TEEN MYCROFT  
Perhaps. I think everyone does, right at the end.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
Even if it’s really fast?

TEEN MYCROFT  
Even if it’s really fast.

They continue to rapidly mime weapons in what is obviously an elaborate pre-arranged system of theirs and hold up game pieces and cards to each other.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
How would they know? I mean, that they’re not just going unconscious? Because of that light tunnel thing? Or seeing ghosts?

MYCROFT  
Some people believe that.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
What do you believe?

TEEN MYCROFT  
I believe that, once you show me the rope in your hand, this game will be over.

SHERLOCK  
(Showing card)  
I’m going to live forever.

TEEN MYCROFT  
And how do you plan to accomplish this?

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
I’m going to build a time machine. Then I can just go back whenever something goes wrong and fix it.

TEEN MYCROFT  
You would destroy the fabric of reality as we know it. Also, time travel is impossible. Plum, study, candlestick.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
How would you know? Plum, study, revolver.

TEEN MYCROFT  
I know everything.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Opens envelope)  
Ha! Not everything. I beat you!  
(Spreads cards triumphantly.)

TEEN MYCROFT  
Nonsense. You must have cheated.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
No, I finally won! Ha, ha, you’re slipping, Big Brother! 

TEEN MYCROFT  
Even I have off-days. Congrats. Fancy another round?

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Dramatically)  
The moment you knew would someday arrive... is here! I won...

His voice trails off. His face falls. He exits fort and stands in middle of his room. It is completely silent.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
Redbeard? Here boy!

His brother stands behind him. YOUNG SHERLOCK turns to face him, understanding.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
Mum and Dad took him to the vet’s.  
(No response)  
He’s gone, isn’t he?

TEEN MYCROFT nods.

YOUNG SHERLOCK  
(Softly)  
Where did he go?

RETURN TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASiB: Irene Adler represents the emergence of Lust... this whole episode is sexually charged. Viewers are meant to think that Sherlock’s stunned silence (? ? ?) at her nakedness is the typical hetero man’s inability to focus when confronted with sex, but no: he simply has no data to process here. It’s also sweet the way the same scene demonstrates that he has been paying attention to John very intimately. Sherlock only starts to get visibly flabbergasted when John starts to pay her more attention (ie: he’s jealous). The episode’s case is about concealing another secret for Mycroft, and here we have the 1st use of the plane metaphor. 
> 
> THotB: as I said before; childhood trauma regarding undue prejudice. For a long time, I thought the subtextual story of “Henry’s” family had to do with Sherlock’s parents. It sort of does. But the main memory is about his brother. It was his brother that was torn apart, as we will later learn. Sherlock is Henry and Mycroft (Sherlock’s “father figure” in many ways) is Henry’s father in the metaphor. And yeah. It was just an ordinary dog. (I’ll bet they didn’t actually put it down, though.) Oh, look at that. Redbeard was a dog too, wasn’t he?
> 
> TRF: the theme of this episode is “spin”... be it media, or otherwise. It’s all about Sherlock being made out to be something he isn’t... with John caring. And Sherlock not... but caring what John thinks. Because he can’t reconcile this case, (Moriarty doesn’t make it that easy for him) he does a “fake death”. Note: Sherlock doesn’t list ‘Molly’ among his friends to Moriarty. This isn’t because he doesn’t care about her... it’s to clue you into the fact that she should be seen as a part of him.). Also note: the surveillance theme of 221b continues. 
> 
> And so shall we...


	32. Scene Thirty-one

31\. EXT. HIGHWAY – DAY 

JOHN  
Cardiff.

SHERLOCK  
(Now on passenger’s side,   
startled)  
What?!

JOHN  
We’re here.

SHERLOCK  
How did we get here so fast?

JOHN  
Yep... thought so. Your eyes were open... scary, by the way... and you were holding up your end for a while but then I couldn’t see what the shoes had to do with anything.

SHERLOCK  
Shoes?

JOHN  
Yeah. Well, that and Professor Plum. And the pirate. Dead giveaways. 

He parks and they exit the vehicle, striding across the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEH: Sherlock returns (with Mycroft’s help... we get some deeper insight into the familial love) and he steps back into the flowing river of John’s life. Mary is established. She likes Sherlock. He likes her. Face value, full stop. So now, he’s got to disarm a “bomb”... which he does, no problem. Easy Peasy. Just can’t seem to turn all the “silly little lights off”. 
> 
> TSoT: Sherlock’s silly little lights are hard to hide under a bushel when we see the juxtaposition of his character with Sholto. Who helps save the day? All THREE of them: S, J, M. When Sherlock drops the champagne glass, that’s the moment: he finally deduces that he’s in love with John. There’s a time to die: “being murdered” in this show is equated with falling in love... another juxtaposition of concepts we see played throughout. BUT. “Not at Johns wedding!” Sherlock reminds Sholto: They would never do that to John Watson. We also get some pretty gay dancing and more foreshadowing of Mycroft’s death. Incidentally, someone else is starting to figure out what Sherlock just deduced... which gets REALLY complicated, because she’s also just been informed she’s pregnant. Whoops. 
> 
> HLV: Sherlock begins this episode in a bitter snit... which you may expect, given the epiphany he’s just had. (On her end, Mary’s kinda grumpy too... partly due to same epiphany; partly due to what 3rd trimester feels like. What a shit soup everybody’s in!) But Sherlock doesn’t have time to wallow long because he needs to die for real. What can return us from death? (a la Princess Bride). True Love, of course. But let’s not think so narrowly on the subject... who NEEDS Sherlock to survive? Here’s just a preliminary count: Of course John does, but Mary does too, which is why she doesn’t aim for the head or heart. And then Molly is there. And Mycroft. (And... Anderson? Why is HE in this scene; he’s not really that important to Sherlock—oh. Looks like I was right about who he represents. Aw, shucks, fellas. Okay; I’ll concede that to you... yes, we did need Sherlock to survive too. Thanks.) 
> 
> Let’s harken some bits of dialogue with the mindset of: “what do real people have, in their real lives?”
> 
> Janine: “I know what kind of man you are.”
> 
> Sherlock: “Mary befriended Janine to get to Magnussen.” (probably not verbatim... whatever; I can’t be bothered to go look it up).
> 
> Magnussen: “Janine makes the funniest noises.” (To Mary. About Sherlock.)
> 
> Since I’ll run out of word-count, you’ll have to meet me next door. Sorry, but there’s a lot of Fandom walls that need tearing down here and the only solution is verbosity.


	33. Scene Thirty-two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Halloween isn't as big a deal in the UK, but it is my favourite holiday.
> 
> Yes, it's a REAL holiday.
> 
> Don't be absurd. Halloween is loads better than Christmas.

32\. EXT. CARNIVAL – NIGHT 

Establishing shots in twilight; booths, games, rides. The logos of stickmen in various poses with garish faces are everywhere. 

Jugglers with flags in demon costumes dance in the crowds.

BARKER (in background)  
...welcome ladies and gents, on this final day of our season: All Hallows, when the demons come out to play...

JOHN  
Needle in a haystack.

SHERLOCK  
It was a particular trailer. I will know it when I see it. 

JOHN  
We’ve been here all afternoon and you haven’t. We’re losing the light. I need to get home, Sherlock!

SHERLOCK  
Last chance. Last weekend of the season...

JOHN  
Wait a minute. This is completely daft. If one of their vehicles was struck by a bullet, don’t you think they would have done something about it by now?!

SHERLOCK  
It’s possible it wasn’t noticed. More likely it’s somewhere that no one could be bothered to dig it out from.

A woman with dark curly hair, in GYPSY dress approaches them from behind.

JOHN  
Wouldn’t they tell the police?

SHERLOCK  
(Snorts)  
A travelling carnival? John, don’t be so naive. Do you really think that candy floss and whimsy are the only things transported from town to town in these rigs? The last thing they’d want is cops poking around! Lots of unsavory characters in this lot, believe me...

GYPSY  
Hello dark stranger. Would you like your fortune told?

SHERLOCK  
(Striding away)  
Thank you, no.

GYPSY  
(Will not be deterred)  
You have an interesting future,  
I can tell. Come, sir. It’s All Hallows and spirits are close...

JOHN  
May as well. We’re having little luck otherwise.

SHERLOCK  
(Stopping, eying GYPSY)  
Allow me. You’re older than you look and you would have given this up two seasons ago, if you had any other employment options. You had a knee replacement last year and, for a long time, used a cane... on the wrong side, incidentally, because you had no physical therapy and nobody corrected you. Don’t look ashamed; many people make that mistake. You’ve made a good haul fleecing tourists today and you’re quite proud of yourself. Most of what you do is good intuition and social skills, however a small part of you operates under the delusion that you have some clairvoyant tendencies inherited from your grandmother. Your necklace was hers and unlike all the other gaudy trinkets you’re wearing, it’s actually worth something. You should sell it to expedite your retirement.

GYPSY  
(Covering her surprise)  
My, my. Anything else?

SHERLOCK  
You’re blond. This, like everything else, is a façade...  
(He halts in epiphany)  
That’s it!  
(Wanders off)

JOHN  
Does your booth have comfy chairs? I could use a good sit for a bit.

GYPSY  
(Holds out her hand)  
And I can help you find your one true love.  
(JOHN holds up his, thumbing  
wedding band)  
Or have you already found him?

JOHN  
Uh... no, that’s... No.  
(Laughs, pulls out wallet)  
Here. For your trouble.  
(Nods in SHERLOCK’S direction)

GYPSY starts to take bill. Freezes as her hand touches his. Looks at him intently. Steps back without taking the money.

GYPSY  
Bless you, sir. Happy Hallowe’en.

JOHN  
(Holding money out.)  
No, it’s okay...

GYPSY  
Beware the Wolf.  
(Retreats)

JOHN, shaking head, walks off to find SHERLOCK.

Finds him eyeing a large trailer: one of the enclosed fun-house ride types. Sign reads: “House of Horrors”

SHERLOCK pulls up the corner of the decorated tarp that hangs over the side. Another pattern is beneath it.

SHERLOCK  
They have multiple coverings for different designs. More options at cheaper cost.

In background: a macabre-looking devil dummy affixed to the trailer’s side. It has a mark in the middle of its forehead.

JOHN  
So the one you’re looking for is...

SHERLOCK pulls the tarp back further, revealing the design and the sign: “Maison du Mort.”

Flash! Image from shooting day: it’s the same one. 

SHERLOCK  
(Looks up in awe)  
This one.

They run around inspecting the walls; which have numerous vent-like openings. Haunted-house sounds emit from within.

They meet up after encircling the trailer in opposite directions.

JOHN  
Hard to tell but I didn’t see any bullet-holes.

SHERLOCK  
Could have passed right inside through any one of these openings. Where are you going?

JOHN  
(Headed for queue)  
I’m going inside.

SHERLOCK  
You really think you’re going to see something in there?

JOHN  
I’m going to observe... really observe. You’re not the only one that can do that, you said.  
(Gets into line-up, thinking  
SHERLOCK is behind him)  
You know, it’s stupid, but I used to be terrified to go into these things alone...  
(Realizes SHERLOCK’S gone)  
Bloody hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HLV continued:  
> Mary shoots Sherlock with information, not a bullet. Confirming what she had suspected earlier, but had been too short-sighted dig deeper against John’s denial. ‘Liar’ means she lied to herself... accepting a proposal that, deep-down, she probably knew she shouldn’t have. Because real people make mistakes like this when they optimistically hope for a future they’ve desired.
> 
> When Sherlock wakes, Mary says “You don’t tell him” but this means “Don’t tell him that I know” and it isn’t to mislead John for nefarious purposes. Magnussen is the Napoleon of “blackmail” ie: “feeling as if one is forced to do things for the wrong reasons.” Mary wanted to kill the human embodiment of “blackmail” to protect her family, (and then, UNPLANNED: Sherlock puts himself in harms way) with both of them having the ultimate goal of protecting the child (the genie that CAN’T be put back in the bottle). 
> 
> Mary is their ally, not their foe. She doesn’t want to “lose John”, but this doesn’t necessarily mean keep him for herself. It means to allow John the freedom to BE John: to make whatever choice JOHN would make... and also, he does need take responsibility for the child HE CHOSE to take the risk of making. And Sherlock understands this. (Anyone who understands REAL mature love understands this.) It’s why, even though he does tell John about Mary’s “past”, he takes her case and backs off his own part in it... letting John come to his own conclusions. Shooting Magnussen is Sherlock trying to make the choice of taking himself out of the equation.
> 
> But Mycroft/Moriarty won’t let that happen. The plane returns.
> 
> TAB: this episode has the least meta of any episode. Take it at face value. No seriously. Sherlock and John are just floundering around trying to save lives. Mary is now “in” on the secret... encouraged by Mycroft... and wants to help, but keeps being pushed to the side-lines. The only thing that’s really meta is that Fat Mycroft is practically killing himself with gluttony. (And oh... look at that. John just gave us a time-frame. Thanks John... we can trust John, he never lies.) Moriarty is batshit crazy, but the only one plainly calling everything what it is. (And he’s super gay.) Mrs H is the voice of reason; lamenting that she should have more lines. And... uh oh. The elephant (in-the-room) carving falls from the desk with the turbulence of the plane. 
> 
> Oh. And, superficially plot-wise: Mr Steven Moffat wants everyone to know he’s NOT, in fact, a misogynist like so many people say. Hashtag LeagueOfFuries, hashtag BridePower hashtag merchprofitknowsnogenderbutweknowwhobuttersourbread, hashtag butMoffwouldSTILLlikeeveryonetoknowheissmarterthanhissillylittlefangirls. 
> 
> Whatever. Look... Moffat’s not the worst of the Old Boys Club BY FAR, and if you’re like me... lucky enough to be born into relatively egalitarian circumstances... then you need not fear or hate the patriarchy, Furies. Just crawl up its ass and SING LIKE A BIRD :) 
> 
> (Except... the League of Furies doesn’t ever believe what I say when I interpret BBC Sherlock because I’m not “The Authority” in the matter... pretty sure THIS is a type of irony.)
> 
> On that note... lemme lay down precisely what our dear head writers were doing with S4 before we consider what comes after. Hashtag Spoilers. Hashtag Authoritycankissmybutt, Hashtag THISiswhatrealXXPOWERlookslike.


	34. Scene Thirty-three

33\. INT. HAUNTED FUN-HOUSE – NIGHT

JOHN sits in the automated car, pulled slowly through the fun-house. Spooky music and sound effects.

JOHN POV: doing his best at Holmesian observation: air-text pops up around the props: “Fake blood”, “Dummy”, etc. 

“Man in costume... will spook unsuspecting tourists”: and then, this happens in the car in front of JOHN.

Then JOHN sees it: an odd, round black mark, on a dimly-lit tombstone prop. “Bullet-hole?”

He looks around furtively. Can he risk getting out of car to investigate?

Goes for it, Holmes-style.

JUMP CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no easy way to say this... almost every line of Six Thatchers’ dialogue is the show-runners lambasting the Fandom. Specifically, the Mary-hating branch of it. (Because, in the Real World, despite the creators best efforts to convey a character that should be adored, the anti-Mary sentiment runs deep and loud... and though it’s usually TJLCers, it’s also sometimes the mainstream too: the Old Bros Club that are like; WTF was Sign of Three, etc. GET RID OF THE MARY SHIT... I DON’T WANT A RELATIONSHIP STORY!!! ACTION! RUNNING! GUNS!) I had wondered if the entire tone of S4 was always totally pre-planned, but perhaps one of Mary’s lines confirms it: “a last minute change-up”. 
> 
> Overall, the pace of the episode is likely meant to feel too-fast and over-packed with frenetic clue diarrhea !!Look At This !! Look At This!! and you have to remind yourself that this is a character-driven show and you should just focus on the characters. 
> 
> What the actors show us is this: Mary is on the run, attempting to escape something that ultimately becomes inescapable. She tries to disentangle herself from John and Sherlock and cannot. The reason she cannot? They will not let her. They love her. (As I’ve already said... you can trust Sherlock as the guiding facial map of the show. It’s HIS show; it’s his story, and he is not lying: he desperately wants to save her.)
> 
> John, for his part, is very flat-affect and worn-out looking through the episode. And the way that he and Mary are playing it in the first few scenes is brilliant. They are totally keeping up appearances for other people (“new paint; disguise a smell”) but when they are alone, there is actually a quiet acceptance between them. They are dealing with something. They are using humour and the distraction of their daughter to do it. John’s flirtation with Eurus? Well, obviously, we’re going to come back to her soon, but for now just hold this in your head: is Eurus a woman? For that matter, is Eurus actually a person? Or is she an idea? An idea that he first flirts casually with... then, in the next episode, sits down for some serious discussion.
> 
> (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: his midnight texting is with Sherlock.)
> 
> Next section... we’ll talk about the masks worn in this episode, and the biggest fandom parody yet.


	35. Scene Thirty-four

34\. EXT. CARNIVAL EXIT – NIGHT 

Security deposits JOHN squarely out the gate. He sits dejectedly on a bench. SHERLOCK approaches, carrying an enormous bag of candy floss. They walk together to car.

SHERLOCK  
Well, how was that?

JOHN  
I’m useless. Thought I saw it. Turned out to be chewing gum.

SHERLOCK  
As always, you were amazing.

JOHN  
You don’t have to be sarcastic.

SHERLOCK  
(Smiling gently)  
I really mean it. You’re perfect.

JOHN  
(Frustrated, angry)  
At what?!

SHERLOCK shows him the contents of his bag. Nestled in the pink floss is the detached head of the devil-like demon. Like a third eye, there is a hole in the forehead.

SHERLOCK  
Providing the diversion.

They get into car. SHERLOCK produces a pair of tweezers and a small plastic bag. Carefully digs out the bullet.

SHERLOCK  
Need to be careful with this. If I’m right... and I’m very rarely wrong, John... the striations on this bullet will not match the barrel of Sean Bealy’s gun.

JOHN  
(Turning car on)  
Alright. Scotland Yard it is.

SHERLOCK  
No.

JOHN  
No? Sherlock, you have to. That’s evidence.

SHERLOCK  
Not yet, as far as any of those bumblers are concerned.

JOHN  
What are you going to do then?

SHERLOCK  
(Resigned sigh)  
Desperate times call for desperate measures.

JUMP CUT TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Sherlock does a double duty in T6T... as himself, and as the creators. And the Fandom is possibly represented by two characters.
> 
> Ajay. Below the superficial James-Bondish plot character... this is Sherlock’s Jealousy. How wonderful that it is the most vicious combat scene he’s ever had. 
> 
> And one more level below that. Ajay wants to kill Mary. This is the Fury of the Fandom... this is every critic that desperately wants Mary dead (possibly some of his venom is fueled by a very legitimate core vulnerability of being made fun of for TJLC theories.)
> 
> So. Who is Vivian Norbury, other than a nice plant for an obvious hashtag quote? (Long “Live” Norbury?) Well, here’s the data... she uses state secrets and tries to play both sides for her own personal gain. She’s got the code-name of either *Langdale or Porlock.
> 
> *Brief aside: I did have a brief heart-stopping moment where I wondered if that reference was intended for my own namesake, but rationality quickly won out. I hadn’t gotten my poop together fast enough to send my hoax-script until summer of 2016 (and my first youTube video by emails/tweets in just that December) so if the PTB ever heard of THIS Dale Pike, it was only very briefly before S4 aired... LONG after the whole plot of T6T was written and this footage was in the can. As for my miniscule messaging earlier than that (in the extremely unlikely event that someone from BBC had ever read the One Word Test here on AO3)... Pike’s every move prior to S4 consistently upheld the Law: “In this House we speak Subtext!” My own Pike didn’t sell “state secrets” and her entire MO was always PLEASE DON’T KILL MARY.
> 
> Just a reminder, in case I haven’t been abundantly clear in everything I have ever written in the Fandom: I think Evil Mary is a cop-out. Blaming Mary just for being John’s chosen partner is a cop-out. John getting out of this situation “conveniently” with her death by another hand is a COP-OUT. I didn’t want to have my mother or father or any other TJLC-detractor snorting “Oh! How fortunate! She’s in the way of the gay lovers, so let’s JUST kill her off!” I LOATHED the idea of that outcome. Real life doesn’t work that way. Sherlock’s core story... no matter how sensationally you dress it up... is a real story. And it’s also John’s. And John needs to be his own damn hero. And that means put your big-boy red-pants on and take responsibility for what needs to be done. 
> 
> The character I chose for my own namesake way-back-when is a “strange languid creature”... an introvert shut-in that, paradoxically, keeps an eye on the gossip eddys of London and funnels this intel to Sherlock (brief mention only in The Three Gables). I liked this tiny bit-character, and figured they’d get around to using him some day. In the parlance of the show (where fringe freaks are elevated to status of “Network”), I guess I always figured Langdale would be a good guy. At least, in the original text, there’s nothing to suggest that he is nefarious, under-handed or ill-intentioned. Perhaps I’m biased in this manner, but I don’t think Vivian is Langdale... I think Sir Edwin is (and we have yet to see his purpose in that scene).
> 
> So who, then, is Porlock...?


	36. Scene Thirty-five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The police file was my grade-school locker combination. Funny how you never forget that stuff.

35\. INT. ANDERSON’S FLAT – NIGHT 

SHERLOCK stands in front of red drapes and flowered paper.

SHERLOCK  
I need your help.

ANDERSON  
Anything. Anything, Sherlock, I...

SHERLOCK  
(Holds up bag with bullet)  
I need this run through ballistics fingerprinting. See if it matches gun evidence file 21-11-05.

ANDERSON  
(Faltering)  
That’s not really my area. Why... why don’t you submit it through...

SHERLOCK  
It is of utmost importance that this be processed immediately and discreetly.

ANDERSON  
Well. I have a friend in ballistics. Actually part of the... uh... a club I fou... I belong to. But...

SHERLOCK  
(Presses bag into his hand)  
Immediately. And returned to me afterward.

ANDERSON  
Sherlock, look. I just got reinstated and I don’t want to rock the boat...

SHERLOCK  
Anderson, this may prevent a man from being wrongfully convicted.

ANDERSON  
Really? Wow. Jeez. It’s just that I really do need this job, and...

SHERLOCK  
This could possibly have severe implications for matters of national security.

ANDERSON  
(Turning away for a moment)  
I’d like to help. I really would. Why don’t we...

SHERLOCK rolls eyes, snaps to an imploring look as ANDERSON turns back to him.

SHERLOCK  
Phillip. Please. It would mean the world to me.

ANDERSON  
(Enthusiastically)  
I’ll do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porlock, on the other hand, is an agent of Moriarty, tries to play both sides. He is not trust-worthy and cowardly in his self-interest. (*Agent of Moriarty... hold that thought... hold it. We’re almost there... at WHAT HE IS.) 
> 
> Sub-level One: I think Vivian Norbury is meant to be John... or, more specifically, John’s Jealousy; the counter to Sherlock’s jealousy in Ajay. Tired of being second-to-Sherlock... and then, second-to-Mary!... tired of being a side-kick. Tired of wrestling with his feelings. Tired, period; wanting some simplicity and peace. And this makes sense. Because the only one that can truly choose to “kill” Mary is John.
> 
> (Um. Perhaps this also bears mentioning, since there are some very slow people out there... John didn’t actually KILL his inconvenient wife. It’s a metaphor. He told her the truth about himself.) 
> 
> Sub-level Two: it’s possible that Vivian Norbury is meant to be a shout-out to a specific “leak” from Hartswood or BBC insiders, but I’m not research-geek enough to know if there ever was a real-life “Porlock”. There could have been one though, with vast social media reaches of influence and thus, broader-audience spoilage of the show’s ultimate goal. Hmm. Selling state secrets for personal gain. Generating Ajay’s wrath. (Perhaps this is what prompts Sherlock’s viciously condescending diatribe here, because he probably wouldn’t be so cruel if speaking only to a facet of John.) Necessitating Mary’s death. (And; “death” of the show?) Mary’s very phony-looking death.
> 
> Interesting to note... Ajay isn’t killed by any of the main characters. A random local cop manages to disrupt this tension. While a child watches.
> 
> Also interesting... (well, to me, anyway. Probably not to anyone else, but THAT’S Fandom for you...) A stewardess on the plane tells Mary when she’s acting sick; “You’ll be alright.”
> 
> Answer: “You’re sweet. God will smile on you.”
> 
> Oh, GAWD.
> 
> Get the fuck right over yourself, Moff. If I had a god, it wouldn’t be you.


	37. Scene Thirty-six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew... this scene is a doozie. If I were a real screen-writer, I'd probably have formatted it better, but whatever. I mainly just care about content. I LOVE this scene... it might be my favourite.
> 
> Because of the Sherlock/Molly tender moment at the end, I got made fun of by Furies in 2017 for my offensive 'Sherlolly' script. 
> 
> Sigh. I can't. I can't even...
> 
> IT'S SUB-TEXT!

36\. INT. BART’S LAB – NIGHT/INT. SCOTLAND YARD – NIGHT

SHERLOCK is working at the lab. Candy floss bag is on the counter beside him. MOLLY comes in.

MOLLY  
Hello. Come to keep me company on my night shift?

SHERLOCK  
Just analyzing some samples from that white powder scare in Leeds.

MOLLY  
Oh? I thought that turned out to be flour.

SHERLOCK  
It is flour. It’s the type of flour it is that’s intriguing.

MOLLY  
Well. Carry on, then.

SHERLOCK  
(Smiles warmly at her)  
Though, for company, yes, I am pleased to see that I won’t have to suffer the presence of any of the intellectually-deficient staff.

MOLLY  
My, my. You’re in a good mood.

SHERLOCK  
I’ve had a sudden development in a stagnant case.

MOLLY  
In... flour...?

SHERLOCK  
No. This is just for biding my time, really. I have my... assistant on it.

INTERCUT:

ANDERSON enters Forensics, carrying a case box. Obviously an area he is not usually in; he looks nervously around. 

Traverses the department in an un-cool version of Mission-Impossible moves.

Runs into Sally DONOVAN. Starts to look panicked.

BACK TO LAB:

MOLLY  
(Looking around)  
Oh, is John...?

SHERLOCK  
No, he’s at home. I’ve taken up enough family time this weekend.  
(Looks up from microscope)  
I do have other colleagues you know.

MOLLY  
I’m sure.

SHERLOCK  
I do.

MOLLY  
I know.

SHERLOCK  
Not that I have time for socializing, mind you, but if I wanted to...

MOLLY  
I believe you...

BACK TO S.YARD:

ANDERSON  
(Rapidly explaining)  
...and I wouldn’t normally consult on a case like this, but Hopkins was adamant that I assist and hell, I could use the overtime, right? 

DONOVAN  
I said I believe you.

ANDERSON  
(Softly)  
Oh.

DONOVAN  
We both work here. You don’t need to justify your presence to me.

Awkward pause. 

DONOVAN ANDERSON  
Look, Phillip... Sally, I...

DONOVAN  
I don’t regret what happened. We’re both adults. We made choices. We can still be friends, yeah?

ANDERSON  
(Realizes he’s in the clear)  
Yeeeah...

DONOVAN  
So stop looking like a fugitive, okay?

ANDERSON  
(Dorkishly)  
Okay.

They awkwardly pass each other and move on. ANDERSON resumes his unstealthy stealth.

LAB:

MOLLY  
Well, that was awkward.

SHERLOCK  
See? It’s why I’ve never taken you up on that coffee date.

They both chuckle and carry on with their individual tasks.

MOLLY  
You’re doing... okay then?

SHERLOCK  
Hmm? Oh, right, right. Yep. Never better.

Pause.

MOLLY  
Weren’t you wearing that same shirt on Friday?

S. YARD:

ANDERSON, in ballistics, showing bullet to BENJI.

BENJI  
Tonight? Without a requisition? Are you mad?

ANDERSON  
Believe me, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important...

BENJI  
(Rifling through box)  
And... is this the Bealy file? How did you sign this out? Jesus, Phillip... you just got reinstated!

ANDERSON  
Look... I can’t explain, but if we do this, it may save a man from...

BENJI  
No. Take all this back from wherever it came from and fill out the proper paperwork.

ANDERSON  
I have it on good authority that this may be a matter of national security...

BENJI  
I don’t care if the bloody Qu...  
(Pauses, eyes widen)  
Wait. This is from him, isn’t it?

ANDERSON nods gravely.

BENJI  
(Enthusiastically)  
I’ll do it.

LAB:

MOLLY and SHERLOCK still working. Sense that it is now late into the night.

SHERLOCK  
(Muttering, sing-song)  
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men...

MOLLY  
Are you sure you’re alright?

SHERLOCK  
Please, Molly, silence is golden. I’m trying to concentrate.

MOLLY  
Yeah. Well.  
(Gets up from desk)  
I’m going to go get something from the cafeteria. 

SHERLOCK  
(Doesn’t look up)  
I’m fine, thanks.

As MOLLY departs, SHERLOCK’S phone rings.

SHERLOCK  
(Into phone)  
Anderson?

ANDERSON  
Sherlock! Oh, Sherlock... you... You’re a bloody genius, you!

SHERLOCK  
What did you find?

ANDERSON (V.O.)  
You know, I know you took a lot of flack for that newspaper guy, but frankly, he seemed like a real creep anyway, and I’m happy that...

SHERLOCK  
The bullet? Did you get the bullet tested?

ANDERSON  
Yep. It’s all done. And I supervised it personally. There can be no doubt. You were right.

SHERLOCK  
Anderson, stop babbling. What was the result?

ANDERSON  
A match, of course. You must have known before you gave it to me, but this proves it beyond a doubt. 

SHERLOCK  
(Blinks)  
It was a match.

ANDERSON (O.S.)  
A perfect match. The bullet you found was fired by this gun.

SHERLOCK says nothing.

ANDERSON  
Are you going to fill me in on the rest? I mean... I don’t want to cramp your style, but maybe I can help more.

SHERLOCK says nothing. Blinks.

ANDERSON  
Sherlock? Sherlock...?

SHERLOCK  
(Hanging up phone, to self)  
I’m surrounded by idiots.

SHERLOCK lays head onto his arm on the counter and closes eyes, resting a moment.

Then he lifts his head and continues working.

SHERLOCK  
Molly! Can you look and tell me the pH reading on the...

MYCROFT  
Seven-point-four.

SHERLOCK looks up to see MYCROFT standing before him, in the clothes he was wearing when shot, bloodstain on shirt.

MYCROFT  
She went to get a snack. You’re talking to yourself.

SHERLOCK  
(Calmly turns back to scope)  
So it would seem.

MYCROFT  
You know, despite your odd beliefs, there is actually an impact of extremely low blood sugar combined with lack of sleep on your brain. I suggest you allow someone to feed you up before you do yourself serious harm.

SHERLOCK  
Oh, is that what I should do?

MYCROFT  
Among other things, yes.

SHERLOCK  
Well, I’m working on a puzzle. It’s taking me an unusually long time to solve it. Did you come to gloat?

MYCROFT  
Hardly. It’s a longer way than you might think.

SHERLOCK  
Rubbish.

MYCROFT  
You’re wasting time with this. There are more important matters requiring your attention.

SHERLOCK  
And they have it. Your death was a part of a much bigger picture, Mycroft. I haven’t found the proof yet, but it’s there. I’m certain of it. 

MYCROFT  
You’re missing the big picture.  
(Beat)  
Sherlock, I need you to figure this out.  
(As if to himself)  
I never meant things to get this far out of...

SHERLOCK  
(Working)  
Oh, hush, you... Figment.

MYCROFT  
Have you considered that perhaps I just faked my death? You made it look like such fun.

SHERLOCK  
(Look disturbed, as if he  
almost considers it)  
We buried you.

MYCROFT  
(Changes position with ghost-  
like efficiency)  
Elementary.

SHERLOCK  
You had an autopsy.

MYCROFT  
Bah. So did you, rumor had it.

SHERLOCK  
I felt your wound.  
(Beat. Flat voice)  
I felt it when you died.

SHERLOCK doesn’t look at him, but MYCROFT now stands behind his shoulder.

MYCROFT  
True. Obvious then.

SHERLOCK  
Yes.

MYCROFT  
So why are you ignoring everything else that is obvious? You know who killed me.

SHERLOCK tries to ignore him, busying himself with the microscope.

MYCROFT  
(Suddenly right in front)  
For someone with tremendous gifts of observation, you are remarkably good at ignoring things you don’t want to see.

SHERLOCK  
(Snapping)  
Alright, fine! I. Don’t. Know! I can’t figure it out; I’m too stupid. Just tell me, Mycroft... tell me what the connection is so I can stop these attacks. And I promise I will go eat something. I will never touch a chemical stimulant again, I will visit Mum and Dad once a month! I will... uh... I will give up smoking.

MYCROFT  
You did give up smoking. 

SHERLOCK  
A bit.

MYCROFT  
(Firmly)  
Sherlock.  
(Beat)  
Let me go.

They share a long look. SHERLOCK begins to seem doubtful. MYCROFT slowly starts to walk away, out the door (which is propped open: he touches nothing.)

SHERLOCK  
(Sarcastically)  
For the sake of the bigger picture?

MYCROFT  
(Turning back)  
For yours.

SHERLOCK  
(Dryly)  
That almost sounded like caring, Mycroft.

MYCROFT  
Well.  
(Beat)  
After all, weren’t we flesh and—

SHERLOCK’S head is sideways on his arm, resting on the counter, in the previous pose as if he has not been moved since before MYCROFT’S arrival. His eyes snap open.

SHERLOCK  
Blood. 

He hesitantly scrapes a sample from the hole in the dummy head.

SHERLOCK  
(Nervous rambling)  
Molly... Have I ever told you about how the test for presence of haemoglobin was invented... oh, I forgot; you’re not here. No matter...

Proceeds to perform blood identification, muttering to self as he does so. He looks reluctant to get the result.

SHERLOCK  
And I will find no trace blood... because that... that was just a stray bullet...

Results float into the air: “Presence of hemoglobin: +ve.” 

He frowns, swallowing. Prepares sample for blood-typing.

MYCROFT (V.O.)  
Balance of probability, little brother.

Results flash up into air (in succession): A. B. +ve. 

He bows head, expression beginning to crumble in grief. 

QUICK FLASHBACKS:

EXT. BACKYARD: overhead long-shot of 1st scene: BOY scoops up TODDLER before he can push through long grasses and fall into the nearby pond.

INT. SCHOOL: eye-patch-wearing YOUNG SHERLOCK watches as school bullies are busted by police searching lockers and led away. From other end of hallway, TEEN MYCROFT watches.

INT. DRUG-DEN: a strung-out SHERLOCK shivers; from behind him, MYCROFT removes his own coat and slips it gently around his brother’s shoulders.

Flash! Rapid scrolling of images: the brothers at various ages; among games, experiments, shared hi-jinks, etc.

RETURN TO LAB:

SHERLOCK cries out in frustration and anguish, sweeping lab bench clean, knocking boxes and glassware to floor.

His phone pings, he glances at it, fallen off the counter with the debris. Makes no move to get it, squeezing eyes shut.

He stands, breathing heavily, leaning against lab counter. MOLLY, standing in doorway, comes into focus.

SHERLOCK  
(Nasally)  
Leave me alone Molly.

MOLLY  
Are you...

SHERLOCK  
I’ll clean it up. Just go.

MOLLY  
Sherlock...

SHERLOCK  
(Crossly)  
I said GO—-

He begins to take a step and slips on the wet floor; sprawls unceremoniously on backside between lab counters.

Flounders a moment, trying to get up; notices that one hand is full of glass shards. Covers eyes with uninjured hand. 

SHERLOCK POV (between fingers): Molly’s feet; approaching, then halting, then retreating out of room. 

He looks up with a mixture of relief, surprise and regret that she has left. Slumps posture in defeat, closes his eyes. Cries quietly for a minute, before composing self. 

MOLLY reappears with a broom and dustpan. Gives him a look that clearly reads: ‘as if you thought I’d leave’. Sweeps a space clean beside him and sits down, taking his hand.

SHERLOCK  
(Scowls but doesn’t hide tears)  
I don’t need a n—- 

MOLLY  
I’m not a nurse.

SHERLOCK  
I don’t need a...

She is undeterred.

MOLLY  
I know.

They exchange a glance and sit in silence for a long moment, as he lets her pick the glass shards gently out of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (D)Lying Detective. I love this story. I always figured it would feature prominently, in a show about turning lies into truth.
> 
> I feel like there’s a lot of popping around of characters in S4... speaking with each other’s voices and wearing each other’s skin. I haven’t got it all completely teased out in my mind, so I’m just going to stick with the simplest clues: T6T starts with Sherlock... it is a Sherlock-Centric episode. TLD starts with John, so it is about John. (Perhaps a clue to this is Sherlock’s bloodshot eye is the same one that Magnussen flicked on John.)
> 
> Note that “serial killer” also harkens us back to the original baddie: the cabbie.
> 
> TLD is John coming to terms with his negative, shameful feelings about loving Sherlock and breaking up his family. When “Sherlock”... who is playing the part of John’s Love that doesn’t want to die... realizes Smith wants to “kill” anyone, this is John recognizing that he is bisexual... of course he is. (Why couldn’t he be?) And the “serial killer” pairing with Smith is meant to inflate the idea that this is a feared, reviled, disgusting, evil, degenerate, harmful, etc. concept. 
> 
> Which is, of course, NOT true of bisexuals, or queerness in general. But this is how many people in the world feel about queers. And thus, it is the way that many queers feel internally about themselves. And... as rough as the outside world can be... the most important demon to slay is the internal one.
> 
> What helps with this internal battle is the fact that Mary really did love and accept John. It's why he trusts her opinion. It's why he is talking to HER in his mind palace. (Oh, she's still alive, of course... hence the "DVD" messages: she is still present in their lives... but the Mary we see here is the one that he has conjured to help him fight his own internal demons.)
> 
> Mary's a big goddamned hero. Why anyone would begrudge her this role... and thus sully this example of peaceful acceptance to the world-at-large... is BEYOND me. (But I guess some people have a hard time giving up beliefs that they've invested a lot in.)
> 
> John also employs the embodiment of his daughter. ("Faith"... as in; she who has total faith in him, as a baby relies on its parent.) The typical feeling one would expect a child to generate is duty, and we see this. But a child also (and I can speak to this FIRST HAND) compels to try to be your best self. They are the greatest motivator for change, by changing the way you see the world.
> 
> Well, with that, you should be able to appreciate all the dialogue now. One adorable little thing of note... Mrs Hudson’s unflappable acceptance of the situation also takes the hero roll in this episode. And oh, boy... watch the Mama Bird of Baker Street call Mycroft out on what he is! A bit harsh, I suppose, given the circumstances. But he was never her tenant. 
> 
> And now, onto the final problem...


	38. Scene Thirty-seven

37\. INT. COFFEE SHOP – NIGHT

SHERLOCK  
Black, two sugars. And the other with milk.

MOLLY accepts coffee that SHERLOCK plunks down on the table. They sit opposite each other. 

They now seem slightly uncomfortable in each other’s company and start in simultaneously with bad conversation.

MOLLY   
You know, the coffee   
here’s not too bad...

SHERLOCK (overlapping)   
Ugh. What does one have to   
do to get a decent cup of...

Awkward pause.

SHERLOCK   
So... you and the Good   
Detective, then... 

MOLLY (overlapping)  
I saw John in the park  
the other day...

Awkward pause.  
MOLLY  
You know, if you don’t want to talk about it...

SHERLOCK  
It was just a coincidence.

MOLLY sips her too-hot coffee and waits patiently for SHERLOCK to continue.

SHERLOCK  
My brother’s death had nothing to do with other terrorist attacks. The bullet was a match. Sean Bealy shot him. My brother was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was shot by a drug dealer in a turf war. Nothing more.

MOLLY  
I’m sorry.

SHERLOCK  
(Sips coffee)  
The East Wind got him first, I suppose.

MOLLY  
The East Wind?

SHERLOCK  
A metaphor. In many cultures, the East Wind is a harbinger of ill tidings, danger, war, pestilence...

MOLLY  
And Mary Poppins.

SHERLOCK  
What?

MOLLY  
She came when the wind was in the East. And... well, you know. Restored a family’s love and child-like wonder...

SHERLOCK  
If I ever saw it, I’ve deleted it. The Americans probably got it all wrong anyway.

MOLLY  
What if it means the same thing?

SHERLOCK  
What? Death and a singing nanny?! That would be a rubbish comparison.

MOLLY  
Not death. Come on, you’re a scientist... why would the East wind imbed itself into the consciousness of cultures? What is it really?

SHERLOCK  
The... direction the wind doesn’t usually blow from...

MOLLY  
Exactly. But people are often afraid of change. 

MOLLY is looking at her cup and doesn’t notice that SHERLOCK is suddenly attentive.

MOLLY   
And afraid of things that   
they can’t... 

MYCROFT (V.O.)  
We need to get this country under...

SHERLOCK  
(To himself)  
Control.

The waitress arrives with their food, but without another word, SHERLOCK stands and leaves as if in a daze.

MOLLY  
(Acceptingly)  
Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hermione Granger is still scowling.) “Can’t help shake the feeling that you’re strutting around like the cock of the walk. Like you secretly really would enjoy it if Mofftisson noticed your cleverness in solving this.”
> 
> “Nope. Honestly. Funny of you to assume that I need them for something other than enjoyable punch-and-judy banter, but I guess that assumed need is from YOUR lens. The PTB can lick my combat boots. In Sherlock, we have a common goal, and I wish them luck on their side of things. I am even trying to help it on my side. But Dale Pike is not a fan of commanders that cavalierly sacrifice their own soldiers. It’s NOT how I would have done it.”
> 
> “Oh, well. Joss then.”
> 
> (Pike rolls her eyes.) “Say it with me: Lindsay Fucking Ellis. But there’s a perfectly logical explanation for that.”
> 
> “One that takes word-counts of thousands?”
> 
> “Naw. Five: Because I WOULD enjoy it. It’s secondary to me, but of course I would enjoy some interaction with someone interesting and clever. You would too; admit it, ANYONE here would. Doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, although you’re welcome to take all my case-cracking stuff here and make a run for it. Just be warned: you can’t control anything other than just being yourself, Fury. It’s all you’ve got.”
> 
> “Has it occurred to you that the reason you have such a hard time making friends here is because you lecture us like you’re ‘the smart one’?” 
> 
> “With all due respect.” (Pike takes a long, placid sip of tea).


	39. Scene Thirty-eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention it earlier, so in case anyone is wondering...
> 
> "Project Prince" harkens Machiavelli. 
> 
> Cuz Mycroft can't decide if he wants to be feared or loved.
> 
> (I think Moffat can relate.)

38\. INT. TUBE STATION – NIGHT 

SHERLOCK stands, staring at a map of the Underground, which expands (in his mind) to a larger map of the UK. 

An “air-graphic” of his Post-It wall map of terrorism attacks appears on the left. A graphic of the voting districts from the television report appears on the right. 

SHERLOCK  
What is Project Prince?

The two drift centrally in SHERLOCK’S mind to super-impose. The attacks only occur in the districts opposed to the anti-terrorism bill.

SHERLOCK  
(Softly, eyes widening)  
Oh, Mycroft. What have you done?

A woman, coughing violently, and her FRIEND pass by and the woman bumps SHERLOCK out of his reverie. 

FRIEND  
(in background to woman)  
...you need a doctor...

SHERLOCK and the women mutter “excuse-me’s” to each other and they continue on.

SHERLOCK’S phone pings. He opens it and reads an earlier text and the current one:   
“Are you still there? –JW”  
“Can’t sleep. Thinking about case. –JW”

Texts back: “Naturally. –SH”

Their conversation plays out in cool kinetic typography as SHERLOCK rides the first train. SHERLOCK is sitting in front of a phone company advertisement.

“Did you figure anything out? –JW”

SHERLOCK begins to type “tomorrow” but then glances at the time and changes it to:  
“Yes. Going to Old Bailey today. -SH”  
“Didn’t think you were going to go through with it. –JW”

“Changed my mind. –SH”

“Do you want me there with you? –JW”

“Naturally. –SH”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Aren’t you ever going to tell us what happened with you and Trinket?!”
> 
> (Pike looks up in surprise at the couple of ghosted soldiers that are starting to arrive.) “Oh, well. That’s not really anyone’s business—“
> 
> “Seriously?! Don’t be such a tease!” Friendly faces; inquiring minds. “Are you married now? Do you have the whole passel of critters of your combined loins running around underfoot? What’s she like?!” 
> 
> Okay. Well, I’ll tell you this much. Remember I said, when I had my epiphany, that I suddenly knew three things?
> 
> The first was that I had been in love with her for years. And that I will always love her, no matter what happens.
> 
> The second was that this attraction wasn’t exclusive to her. I had known about this rosy glow, of course, deep down... but dismissed it as a singular case. Because she’s so wonderful, so beautiful, blah blah blah she must have been the only one for me... and THAT ship had sailed. But, as it turns out, that’s not quite true. I am extremely loyal and extremely selective, apparently. But I’m also extremely gay. That belongs to Me, regardless of who’s involved. 
> 
> The third thing was that, if you truly love something, you should try to see it for what it really is, not what you want it to be. And the truth of it is: there’s a lot of water under the bridges of both of our lives. When I look objectively at her now, I don’t see someone that really wants to be with me. I see someone that loves me very honestly and dearly as a friend. 
> 
> (Collective let-down groan; accompanied by one nasty little smirk.)
> 
> Oh, it’s okay. I’ve recently met this other woman I really like. She’s a little bit Banksy; a little Bukowski. A little bit Bueller, all up in your Howski. (A little bit la la lala la-Langdale.) She is seriously awesome, and the best part is that I get to be with her for the rest of my life. Trinket will always be my Sherlock. But, at the end of the day, it seems that I’m probably destined to be her Molly, not her John*.
> 
> *Trinket: I honestly don’t know if you’ve ever read my stuff. I mean... you know the name “Dale Pike” and that I’ve been involved in some whacky shit online, but you don’t know my Twitter handle or about AO3 or swim in any of these whacky waters and you also tend to respect my privacy. If you ever did get curious and somehow found yourself looking for me... listen... that murder stuff with Enrico Forti that comes up in a google search of my name... I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT, HONEST! 
> 
> **And yeah, I totally worded that last line that way so you would snarf your wine out your nose, yelling “NOT your “john”?! ... what about that time you sold me for a quarter at the nightclub?!” See. Serves you right for trying to read my kinky online porn stash. Go read the poem I wrote you—it’s not bad—and then piss off, okay?


	40. Scene Thirty-nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first scene that I wrote of the script. When I started it, I actually only wanted to do this scene only... but then the rest of it grew from here. Basically, I have a friend that is a criminal lawyer and we'd gotten in a discussion about what Justice really means. Some of Sherlock's speech is actually her own quotes.
> 
> This story came from a desire for exploring the themes of Truth and Justice through the eyes of Sherlock Holmes. He was an instrumental character in delivering these... but what would this look like if he, himself, had lost something dear to him, due to the crime? 
> 
> I like my "superficial" story about the love between two brothers. Even though I didn't know HOW big my probe into the exploration of truth and justice was going to get, I think I had the cores of the characters in their right places, and that's why it still holds up, now that I know the deeper layers.
> 
> And... through all those layers...
> 
> ...all of them...
> 
> ...the story is about the love between two brothers. Isn't it?

39\. INT. COURTROOM – DAY

SHERLOCK  
(Standing before the judge, reading statement)  
My brother is dead.

The court around him is watching and waiting, as if everyone is expecting more.

JUDGE  
Alright, if that is all—

SHERLOCK  
My brother and I were likely 99.96% similar in terms of DNA, which is to say that we were most alike to each other than we were to all other humans on the planet. Of course, this is not that staggering, if you consider that I am 99.5% similar in DNA to a chimp and 99.1% similar to Basil, the rodent that lives in my wall...

While SHERLOCK speaks, view of the page in his hands clearly shows that it says nothing more than his first sentence. 

DEFENSE  
Mr Holmes, this is not the statement you have submitted for prior disclosure...

SHERLOCK  
I’m amending the statement. I was... not able to write it when asked.

JUDGE  
I see no issue, but the choice lies with the Defense...

DEFENSE nods, with a “go ahead” gesture.

SHERLOCK  
(Almost sing-song)  
Growing up, I have to say that I related to my brother no better than I would to a chimp or a pot-bellied pig or a potted plant. To say that we have never seen eye-to-eye would be an understatement. I remember most Christmases that we had to endure together to be extremely ghastly, although some of that could be blamed on other family members... 

Quizzical expressions throughout courtroom, including from JOHN, who watches from the gallery.

SHERLOCK  
...I can, however, blame Mycroft for the following transgressions: slander, bullying, name-calling, false-witness to our mother in the matter of many household incidents, a willful disregard of my birthday on seven occasions, verbal abuse on too many occasions to count and destruction of property; namely my favourite student-violin. The fact is... I have spent, and planned to spend, the bulk of my adult life in a state of near-obliviousness to his existence.

Awkward pause. 

JUDGE   
If you’re finished now Mr Holmes...

SHERLOCK   
(Directly to BEALY,   
neutral voice)   
Your brother is also dead. He was killed by one of your rivals that day, a few blocks away.

BEALY swallows, keeps mouth in a tight line. SHERLOCK’S voice is so flat and unobtrusive, the JUDGE actually hesitates before interjecting.

JUDGE  
Mr Holmes, may I inquire as you where you are going with this...

SHERLOCK  
Merely stating the facts, Your Honour.   
(To BEALY, rapid-fire, but calm:)   
He was also your only brother. Conceivably, your DNA was also over 99.9% similar and you share a similar dislike of family gatherings. You fought with him too and he teased you, used you and coerced you into doing things you didn’t want to do. But he always had your back, didn’t he? He taught you how to hotwire a car when you eight years old, how to hustle a corner when you were eleven. When you were sixteen, he went to prison for two years despite a witness report matching your description and a strong likelihood that, because of your age, you would have served less time. Oh, don’t look so surprised, many of your files are juvenile but most of his are public record. It’s not hard to make deductions. As for your relationship, I really just described that which occurs between any siblings, didn’t I?

DEFENSE  
Your Honour, we must object...

JUDGE  
I agree... Mr Holmes...

SHERLOCK  
(Pressing on quickly)  
And now, your brother is dead. Dead in a street fight because there are always people who need narcotics, always those who provide them, and always those who want a bigger piece of that pie.

JUDGE   
Mr Holmes, I’m going to have to ask you to stop. You may not speak directly to the defendant—

SHERLOCK  
(To entire room, voice taking on a slight edge)  
Well, what’s this all for then? My statement? Why are we here together in this room, if not speak to each other? If we believe this system is not based on “eye-for-an-eye” simplicity, then what pantomime of justice does this serve? If I fail to provide what you deem to be an adequate degree of sentiment, should that make his sentence any different? Will the worth of Mycroft Holmes’ life weighed in the tears shed by his little brother? And will this be more or less than the worth of the lives for whom there is no one to stand here and shed tears?

JUDGE  
The purpose of this process is to aid victims in the reparation of their lives—

SHERLOCK  
Justice does not make a person or a family or a life whole again. Only they that can do that for themselves. The purpose of this system is to allow our society to be whole. That is what we should seek when we seek justice. 

Views of audience’s reaction to SHERLOCK’S impassioned speech, including JOHN’S.

JUDGE  
Be that as it may...

BEALY  
Go ahead.

Everyone looks at him in surprise. His lawyer leans over to him but he brushes him away disdainfully.

BEALY  
He’s right. Don’t see how this matters to anyone but me and him.  
(Restraining emotion: a mix of   
defiance and remorse)  
Look, sorry, man. Go ahead, then.

Silence.  
SHERLOCK  
(Calm, quiet voice)   
Your brother is dead. But, despite this, and despite your chosen lifestyle thus far, the statistical balance of probability remains that you will still live a long enough life. People will come and go from it but your brother... the person most alike to you in base physiology, in shared history, and whether you liked it or not, the person more alike to you than any other person in this world... is now gone. He will no longer try to teach you things or look out for you.   
(Gaze gradually becomes more   
inward as he continues.)   
You will not enjoy the luxury of quarreling over petty things. You will not someday laugh with him about the behaviour of your dotty old parents and he will not be there with you when you bury them. You will not have to endure his appraisal of your choice of job, your choice of friends, your choice of mate. Your future reckoning of your own life will not include his views or perspective...   
(Swallows, voice wavers just   
perceptibly)  
...and you will never again have to make the choice between answering or ignoring his phone call. 

Room is silent, emotion in many faces, including JOHN’S, including BEALY’S and almost excluding SHERLOCK’S... almost, but not quite.

SHERLOCK  
(As if to himself)   
Your brother is dead.   
(Then to BEALY)   
And so is mine.

SHERLOCK and BEALY share a look. SHERLOCK leaves courtroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Final Problem begins with Mycroft.
> 
> And shortly after, John and Sherlock show up. Kind of looking like they’ve been restored to their historical cheekily clever effervescence. Wow. It’s amazing what a good hug will do for you. Maybe the birthday cake helped too.
> 
> Ugh. My fingers are getting tired. Here, BLEURGH: Mycroft is Eurus. 
> 
> Eurus is, metaphorically, the ‘east wind’: the wind of change. This is why John flirts, then converses with her... which results in her shooting him. But specifically, she is also is Mycroft. Id and Ego. She has been locked up inside his Mind Prison (of which Mycroft has a host of bit-characters guarding in various capacities) since he was preadolescent. And now she wants to break free. (How the hell are people still theorizing that Sherlock is the trans Holmes?! Sherlock has never cared a whiff about anything XX-related once in the show!) 
> 
> Mycroft is the Queen. He’s been protecting his brother because he loves him and doesn’t want to see him suffer the same fate (prejudice in childhood). Also—I’m really deep in the sub-text trenches here, but whatever—his innocent love for his brother was perhaps thought to be perverse/dangerous once the adults in their lives got rolling with trying to “correct” the problem. So Mycroft became very cold and distant emotionally (and by this example, probably “killed” Sherlock’s own emotional interests – Redbeard/Victor). Mycroft has also remained a damaging influence because he’s over-protective and manipulative of Sherlock... constantly surveilling him and worrying about these issues resurfacing in a way that he won’t be able to keep control of. (Even though I didn’t understand the whole Mycroft-arc until just a few months ago, I’ve always cast him in this parental-figure role. The dangers of loving someone the way that you think they should be loved... not the way they actually need to be loved.) There’s also a whiff of: all the dynamics of combustion that this family went through led to Sherlock’s drug abuse... and of course, Mycroft feels guilty about the havoc this has wreaked on his little brother. When John Watson arrives on the scene, Mycroft finally sees an out... here is someone noble and trustworthy that will be a better influence for Sherlock than Mycroft ever could be.
> 
> There you go. Off you pop to go watch a thoroughly enjoyable episode... so heart-rendingly poignant at times; so hilarious at others. Watch out for the “cannibals”.
> 
> Oh, shit... I almost forgot to tell you what Moriarty is... because Moriarty has wreaked havoc with EVERYONE. Moriarty is the other side of Mycroft’s coin. This is a two-sided coin (uh. Is there any other kind?) as we see in its impact on Sherlock, through his external and internal battles with it. On one side, doubt can be the thing telling you: No. Don’t. Stop. You’re not strong enough, good enough, smart enough, etc. Everyone else is right.
> 
> But the other side of Doubt can sometimes say: Yes. Do. Go. Listen to that idea... trust that little voice deep in your head. Everyone else is wrong.


	41. Scene Forty

40\. INT./EXT. JOHN’S SURGERY – DAY 

SHERLOCK stands in waiting room, holds his violin case and a Christmas gift. “Good King Wenceslas” quietly on radio. 

A patient and JOHN exit from examining room together. Patient coughing, looks miserable.

JOHN  
(To patient)  
...and lots of fluids. Take care, there seems to be a lot of nasty stuff going around.  
(Smiling, to SHERLOCK)  
Oh, you’re here. Shall we?

Patient passes them, hacking into his sleeve, while JOHN grabs his coat from a rack and puts on his scarf.

SHERLOCK  
(Holds out gift)  
I really just stopped by to pass this along. There’s something I’ve got to go do...

JOHN  
Bollocks. You’re coming and you’re staying and that’s final. Jesus, I’m ready for a few days off; it’s been insane here this week!

SHERLOCK  
You know I really don’t do...

JOHN  
It’s not a party. It’s Christmas. And you’re going ‘round to your folks’ on Sunday, even if I have to drive you out there myself.   
(Looks at present)   
What is that? We said no gifts.

SHERLOCK  
It’s not for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait a second. “M”-Theory! Maybe Molly is actually... ah, whatever. It still basically functions well enough. How sweet! I was kind of right, then, in the way I laid it out between John and Mycroft in “The Therapist”, even though it just didn’t happen as blatantly as I thought it would. Because, yeah. The show is ultimately about the love between the Holmes siblings, isn’t it? Put THAT in your collection of M’s.
> 
> Boy... I love how I keep having these spontaneous deductions as I keep writing... which is why it’s important to keep calm and carry on writing. You aren’t going to believe me, I know... it sounds too contrived... but it ISN’T and THAT’S WHY IT MATTERS. That last bit JUST hit me now. You see, Loudest? You are a great conductor of light! (Pike tucks her fists in her armpits, flaps and crows to the sky like Pan: Bang-A-RANG!!! Come out, come OUT and play with me!)
> 
> I often made use of the theme of the “East Wind” in my stories, because (like all the other mirror imagery of Sherlock) Mycroft said it was Bad, so of course we knew it had to be Good. On planet Earth, westerlies are predominant. The east wind is the direction that the wind doesn’t usually blow from, as I have Molly explain here in my script, (and also allude to in other stories) similar to how it is described in Doyle’s final paragraph of His Last Bow.
> 
> It’s times like this that I really wish I was German, instead of Canadian. That would have been perfect. 
> 
> Also; better club scene and Angela was a better head-of-state. 
> 
> So. What is the east wind going to blow in next?


	42. Scene Forty-one

41\. INT. WATSON RESIDENCE – DAY 

Surrounded by all the usual faces together in the living room, ABBY tears wrapping paper off of SHERLOCK’S present.

MRS HUDSON  
Oh my.

JOHN  
That’s not a--? 

SHERLOCK  
(Proudly)  
It is.

ABBY opens up the wooden lid of the chemistry kit case, pulling out two test tubes and clinking them together. MARY reaches in to intervene.

MARY  
Hardly appropriate for a toddler, Sherlock. And second-hand?

JOHN is examining case-lid; the faded sticker reads “Property of W.S.S.H.” in child-like letters. He and SHERLOCK exchange a fond look.

SHERLOCK  
Well, it was mostly intact. I had to replace a few items.

MOLLY  
(Sitting next to LESTRADE)  
Is that Erlenmeyer from Bart’s?

ABBY   
(Holds it up triumphantly)  
Boom!

MARY  
Well, maybe we’ll just put that away for a few years...

LATER: As festivities continue in the background, JOHN and SHERLOCK converse in foyer while SHERLOCK dons coat.

JOHN  
I’ll make sure there’s leftovers, but do you really have to go now? 

SHERLOCK  
It’s something important. But not casework. I will be back by dessert. I promise.

JOHN  
You alright? I mean, especially with everything you told me about your theory. That the attacks may be all part of some government conspiracy... God, I can’t believe I just said that.

SHERLOCK  
Whether or not Mycroft died for his knowledge, he did know about Project Prince. And the pattern is there... I just need to find a way prove it. This is big, John. We must proceed carefully.  
(Checks his serious look)  
But not today. It’s Christmas.

JOHN  
(Coughs)   
Sherlock... given your brother’s position and philosophy, has it occurred that you might discover something you won’t want to know?

SHERLOCK  
If these attacks are secretly government-sanctioned, there is a question of what side Mycroft’s support for this plan fell on. My brother always thought he had an eye for the big picture. And he always tried to teach me that caring wasn’t an advantage.   
(Pauses, hand on doorknob and   
continues thoughtfully)  
But, of course, he was also a tremendous hypocrite.

JOHN  
What do you mean?

SHERLOCK  
He cared enough to tip us off on the Underground bomb that would have certainly swung the vote three years ago. He cared enough to work for two years to fill a plane with corpses so that it wouldn’t be filled with people. Does any of that sound Machiavellian to you?

JOHN  
Not to mention the lengths he went to for keeping his annoying kid brother out of trouble.  
(Coughs again)

SHERLOCK  
(Slight smile)  
Well. Obviously.  
(Turns to leave)

JOHN  
(Suddenly remembering)  
Oh, your phone... I think it’s on the table...  
(Starts to go get it)

SHERLOCK  
(Waving him off)  
Don’t worry about it. I know it’s here and I’ll be back. Saves me the trouble of losing it again.  
(Chuckling, exiting door)  
Have you got a cold?

JOHN  
Bah. Picked it up from a patient I think.

SHERLOCK  
(Walking away)  
Well. Wrap up warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, one final word from me to the ARGs... STOP.
> 
> If anyone out there is still trying to “win” something with BBC, they need to know this: The Game is neither on, nor over. The Game is Rigged. The best way—and, dare I say, the ONLY way—to beat it is to step outside of it and DO NOT LET THEM OWN YOU. Hope for it and enjoy it... sure. Help out the conversation... why not; it’s mutually beneficial. Depend upon it?! Good lord. Please don’t give those charlatans that much credit. I have been trying to tell everyone that since S4 dropped. I’m sorry I wasn’t loud enough, or clever and brave enough to figure it all out earlier (though, in my defense, y’all were very frightening and distracting to me).
> 
> To anyone reading this because you’re wondering how to help an obsessive “ARG-er”... I have been pondering that question myself since 2017 and I am not sure what the right answer is. I only know what it ISN’T. It would be tempting to say just “cut it off”... treat it like an addiction and avoid internet, avoid all things that have convoluted contexts, avoid any references to Sherlock Holmes, etc. but this is a medusa with millions of heads. The likelihood of being able simply break from it forever (especially if/when the BBC rendition reemerges!) is almost non-existent. I would imagine that it is too difficult to turn one’s back completely on something that once occupied so much of one’s sense of identity. You can’t cure an “addiction” to being YOURSELF. (In a way, that was my experience too.) I could be wrong, but I feel the best way to come to terms with BBC Sherlock is just to try to understand it clearly. And understand ourselves. And understand which one matters more. 
> 
> And, of course, seek therapy, stay on meds, stay healthy, make good connections in the real world and practice viewing things in an objective but positive light. As someone who’s definitely been lost in “the abyss” in my youth, I can offer this perspective: I came to learn that it was not my fault. But it was my responsibility. People could help, but no one could carry it for me. And that may not be fair, but... well. Life isn’t fair. It is what it is.
> 
> Many of us got wrapped up in the story of Sherlock. That was BBC’s plan... to make people sign up for something without knowing the fine print and then lend their voices to the broader conversation. I thought the creators were marvelously clever, until they broke the rules of their own Game. They lied. They’ll say they didn’t... that it was carefully worded; a technicality... but that argument only held water until S4 and their rhetoric afterward. I know a lie when I see one, and it has to do with the intention, not the wording. I came very close to making that same one myself. From that experience, I’ve learned that this Game should be played without lying.
> 
> In my (occasionally not-so-humble) opinion, the story of Sherlock is still a noble one. It just requires a context that the liars can’t give it now no matter how hard they try: something real. And that’s why it matters that people like us talk.


	43. Scene Forty-two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Moftisson used gun imagry.
> 
> And (if you read on below) I used a virus.
> 
> What can I say? I'm a sucker for gun control. And little things being mightier than big ones. And post-apocalyptic not-to-distant-future-dystopias.
> 
> And the spreading of something you can't contain.
> 
> And I REALLY REALLY REALLY didn't plan it this perfectly, five years ago.
> 
> But now that we're here... it's kinda neat, isn't it, Beeb?
> 
> I mean thematically. (Not the actual corona-virus... that shit is a bit scary; wash your hands, people!) But if we all physically survive until next year... I hope the BBC forgives the fact that I'm gonna metaphorically sneeze ALL over their silly Game, to anybody who wants to listen.)

42\. INT. LONDON FLAT – DAY

View pans slowly through a messy living room. Television is on. A raspy, shuddering breath, coughing, wheezing is heard. 

Ill-looking man comes into view, sheen of fever-sweat on his forehead, lying on the chesterfield, wrapped up in a blanket. He is JOHN’S last patient. 

News report continues.

REPORTER (O.S.)  
...now twelve recorded deaths from this as-of-yet unidentified strain of influenza. Doctors are advising the public to take precautions against this rapidly-spreading virus...

The man begins to seizure.

Sounds of violin during FADE TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final point to Furies: You know you’re kind of my hero, right? 
> 
> Online text (even with emojis) is difficult to convey emotional context, so my unsinkable flippant enthusiasm must seem like a stubborn refusal to feel pain under your knife. That isn’t true at all. You DO hurt my feelings. You DO make me doubt myself... especially those of you that have a well-argued point to disparage me, instead of just straight-up nastiness. You have honed me into a better, stronger person. Every single time you’ve told me that I am hateful and malicious and have no place in this Fandom, I have had to examine my own heart... take it out, open it and review what’s written on the little inch of scroll in there: Good. 
> 
> And the repetitive practice of this is probably what got me through coming-out in the real world. When I was finishing ‘Within the Narrative’ (which was a VERY deeply personal thing to get criticism on, by the way!) I was going through the abyss of depression within my marriage (both beside me, and within me). A Fury that I thought of as ‘Janice from Accounting’—not her real name, of course, but a la Jon Oliver: you KNOW what she don’t give!—live-tweeted out parts of it ad-nauseum in the truest sense: Janice gleefully laced my own heart-felt narrative with vomiting onomatopoeia, and doled it out 144 characters at a time, for the purposes of getting people to laugh at it. (Because of all the BLEURGing, Twitter auto-suggested to translate into Dutch!) 
> 
> She succeeded: This was an absolutely unexpected blessing to come across... and I mean that without the smallest shred of sarcasm. I wept actual tears of mirth—which I had really needed that day—because it was SO funny. I was relieved that I hadn’t given up posting the story in a public forum. Sometimes the best way to deal with the most painful thing in your life is to view it out-of-context, accompanied by a Whoopie-cushion soundtrack. Only then can one really get perspective on oneself.
> 
> But then again, perhaps that’s where some of us differ culturally.
> 
> In film theory (oh, boy... just go watch some Lindsay Ellis if you haven’t yet!), the hero/protagonist of a story is not just the one that “saves the day”... they are the journeyman who undergoes the most personal change. They are the one that sees the world most differently by the end of the story. The heroes of the broader Sherlock story are NOT people like me... we are just the heralds or the mages. The heroes are poised on that potential precipice right now: they are Mycroft’s mummy and Ivan’s dad. They are Sherlolly. They are Vivian Norbury. They are everyone who might choose to say ‘I don’t mind so much anymore.’
> 
> Who knows? There might even be a Pepe or two. Here in the microcosm: I am just the Ferris to your Cameron, Fury. Let’s shake it up, baby, now.
> 
> I still like my old youTube video ‘The Final Answer to BBC Sherlock” that I made to ‘rally the troops’ in 2017. I wasn’t too shy to promote the hell out of it because I knew it was good. I’m rather verbose here, so it may be hard to believe that I could be so succinct elsewhere: the video basically explains the entire core of what Sherlock is, why it matters, the wrong way to view Series 4, and why some fans aren’t fooled. It is carefully neutral in its criticism of the creators... it prods them playfully whilst hedging its bets against the future and reminding them who the Important People are. It demonstrates what true, mature, all-encompassing compassion means. And it does all this in less than four minutes.
> 
> I am a staunch, likely-intractable atheist but I know a good set of words when I see one. The answer is always patient, always kind. The answer does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth. The answer always trusts, always hopes. It never despairs, it never ends... it endures all. It is—unfailingly—love.
> 
> The Conspiracy has always been right about the answer. 
> 
> The only thing anyone ever had to do to “solve” Sherlock was just get the question right.


	44. Scene Forty-three

43\. EXT. CEMETARY – DAY

Violin (a well-played Castor & Pollux) continues as view pans across cemetery. SHERLOCK stands at MYCROFT’S stone. 

View then faces SHERLOCK as he plays, expression solemn but gentle. 

He finishes, flawlessly. Gives the grave a respectful nod.

A blurred figure is visible in background over his shoulder. It’s the female STRANGER from the photo, walking unnoticed over the snow towards him.

STRANGER  
That was beautiful, Sherlock. I’ve never heard you play so well.

SHERLOCK stiffens in shock. 

QUICK SUCCESSION OF FLASHBACKS:

INT. HOUSE, LIVING ROOM – NIGHT: Same view as in episode’s second scene, of mother through door to adjoining room, but shifted slightly so that the troubled-looking pre-teen girl that is being scolded is in view.

EXT. SCHOOLYARD – DAY: Closer view of TEEN MYCROFT and the slightly older girl he was with as they had passed by. She looks distressed, and he looks genuinely torn between her and his brother.

EXT. HOSPITAL, FRONT DOORS – DAY: SHERLOCK and MYCROFT watch from a parked vehicle as parents stand on steps and the dark-haired woman is led in by figures in white coats. She casts an intense look back at them. The older brother puts a hand on the younger’s shoulder. A sign overhead reads: “WINTERFIELD ASYLUM”.

FLASH RETURN TO:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what happens now... because there HAS to be a denouement, right? They wouldn’t just leave Eurus trapped in Sherringford! 
> 
> Well, I’m going to be honest: since writing this summary, I am now of two minds on the matter.
> 
> On one hand, I do think there’s enough “evidence” to suggest that they really did always plan to come back. It’s not an “unlocking of a Game easter egg”, but they are simply allowing enough time to see a social media ground-swell of appreciation for what they were TRULY trying to achieve before they have a fifth series. For maximum enjoyment of the ‘Verse. Theirs. And ours. 
> 
> On the other hand... hmm. To quote another one of my favourite authors: “Not all who wander are Lost.” Now, see, if I just told you the answer, I’d be doing you the greatest disservice anyone ever could. It’s one of those “it-spoils-it-unless-you-find-it-for-yourself” kind of things. But I guess the same rules apply as above. 
> 
> And anyway. I could be wrong.
> 
> When I posted the Three Fables, I had a quasi-serious desire to write my own version of the Lost Special... it’s SO much more engaging than just making a Top 10 Predictions List. If I did, I would post it here, I would always maintain it was fake... but the writer soul in me just wanted to do it for Doing-It’s sake. I don’t think I will. It does take a lot of time and effort. And, it seems likely that having another Dale Pike script in the world is not a good thing.
> 
> In any case, it wouldn’t be the culmination of all things Pike; it would be more of an Afterlude. No, my magnum opus in the Sherlock-verse was ‘Within the Narrative’, because it was written in situ... throughout my experience of the Show and fueled by my experience in the Fandom. Because of this, it actually had all the perspective anyone needed to solve Sherlock. I recently re-read it and, like ‘The Dancing Demons’, realized that there was so much in there (wording and symbolism-wise) that I had NOT put in deliberately. They were things, at the time of writing it, that I DID NOT KNOW yet. My subconscious was playing harmony with me and it was delightful.
> 
> Which just goes to show... you don’t need the full answers to accomplish amazing things. All you need is a source code of good words and the right soldiers around you.
> 
> I’m pretty sure that Mofftisson do not know about what happened down here in the trenches. If they do... well fine. Whatever. I hope the story of our exploits warms their cockles. It may be myopic or self-centered to say this, but I think they really are doing it for the sake of us little Andersons on the ground... unfortunately, they just bit off more than they could chew. And, forgive me my own self-indulgence, but I just have to say it: by some miniscule chance that they ever did read ‘Within the Narrative’, it would FREAK THEM THE FUCK RIGHT OUT. The ‘bloody ear in the bloody box’ ? The ‘semi-armed-and-competent security’ ?! The ‘hot-bed of activist out-rage’ ?!! And the poignancy of Sherlock saving the outcasted ‘Edalji kid’ from the Big Bad Company? These first chapters were dated MONTHS before Series 4 aired. As data-nerds on Tumblr will tell you... my unedited posts are real. And they’re spectacular.
> 
> For the Soldiers that enjoy the thought of the PTB getting a due punishment that fits the crime, let’s revel in imagining that moment:
> 
> Gelder and Co. would laugh and knee-slap and nudge each other. Then they would look suspiciously over their shoulders at their real “insiders” on staff and say, “Okay, guys... joke’s over. Which one of you numbskulls made this account?”
> 
> Cricket. Cricket.
> 
> Later that day...
> 
> S: “It’s driving me crazy. It’s not possible that the Fandom played us back like this. For this long. And from CANADA, apparently? I mean, have you SEEN their television shows? Someone we know is fucking with us.”
> 
> M: “No one around here could pull this off.” (He smiles, nursing that big-boy crush of his.) “It was Joss. Yeah. It had to have been Joss.”
> 
> S: (scowling) “I don’t think so...”
> 
> M: “Oh, I’ll bet it was. He’s better than you are, you know.”


	45. Scene Forty-four

44\. EXT. CEMETARY – DAY 

STRANGER  
(Now closer behind him)  
I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. But then... no one expected me to, did they?

SHERLOCK turns and the STRANGER comes into focus. Clearly not Irene Adler: it’s the boring “client” who oscillated on the pavement and never rang the bell.

SHERLOCK  
(Faintly)  
That’s not possible...

STRANGER  
Hello.   
(Smiles wistfully)  
Little brother.

FADE OUT.

END of EPISODE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, my 2015 predictive take on Sherlock’s “sister” is totally wrong... except this: she shows up with Mycroft’s death. (And; from ‘Home to Roost’: she’s smarter than both of them, she’s been through some shit and she’s just trying to find her home.)
> 
> My favourite scene in TFP is the one where Eurus asks either John or Mycroft to choose between killing the Governor or his wife. You see, what it really means is...
> 
> No. No, I’ve done quite enough. Go tumble that one around until you get it.  
> TJLC has been yammering about WHY THIS STORY MATTERS for the past three years. There are many reasons, but the woman behind Dale Pike really is one of them, as are her family. It’s not a trick. My lens finally had the right crack in it. I feel rather foolish that it took me so long to solve it... it really was obvious. Guess I just had to take the long way ‘round. Any Soldier who understands me knows I often put myself into the character of John. It nearly tore me apart to do it but, in 2016, I shot the Governor’s wife. She survived. Take care if you want to call me a liar; I’ve been through some shit, I’ve got a mighty pen now, and I am NOT afraid of you. 
> 
> Deduction. You now feel a desire to revisit The Final Problem. You might want a box of tissues (because you’re probably going to cry) and if you are a middle-aged female with more than one child gone out under your belt, may I suggest some LBL protection (because you’re going to piss yourself laughing). 
> 
> And then some of you—and I mean this NOT ever as a command but just a deduction in the same context as I always have; like that other exhilarating Oncoming Storm I’m such a fan of, that never gives up, that is always curious, always clever and always kind—
> 
> You’re going to Run. You clever fans. ;)
> 
> To Savvy... and a few others, who I would have liked to count among my “friends”...
> 
> I know you read ‘Narrative’ as it was being completed. I know the entire thing is gonna jump out as eerily prescient now, and possibly moreso in the future... more “insightful” than Dale Pike had ever been before. If you ever feel the pricking of your thumbs... were you being played?... use your reason. Trust your brain and your heart. I am a real live woman in Canada... and, always, your friend. I had no connection to Hartswood or BBC. I just put one foot in front of the other and walked this road one step at a time. Don’t EVER doubt that someone unimportant could be this clever. We could. Yes, WE. All I ever did was stand on the shoulders of good soldiers and it let me see further than most.
> 
> There is a reason that the world seems full of uncanny coincidences at times. Humans are story-tellers; our brains seek order and meaning. There are only so many human stories; we just recycle versions of them, with our own spin, in every piece of art we create. This is not a “Hollywood” formula; it’s a chemical one. It’s written in our neurons. It’s looking into that Deeper Well of the world and plucking the soul-string we find there. 
> 
> Our finest calling is to look at ANY story—imagined or lived—and ask: how can I make this great?... no, better... no... Good.


	46. THE BACK PAGE

[BLANK]

(with a hand-written note:)

Shucks, I guess I was wrong, fellas. I’m sorry. There is hope for Sherlock after all.

Just one little thing, though... you should have had an actual white-sheet ghost in the first scene of TFP, that harkened us back to that first scene of TBB. How could you fail to include such low-hanging fruit?! I know, I know... EVERYONE’S A CRITIC!

Oh my god. I think—just as I was writing above—I finally figured out who Inigo Montoya is.

Oh, you ruddy bastards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that we’re at the end, Newbie, I’m definitely interested in what you think of everything I’ve written here. Oh, you didn’t read it... you just skipped straight to the end? That’s cheating! Well, the summary below is not bad, but you missed all the best bits above. (Like the cannibals.) 
> 
> As I like to tease in my ineffectual, COMPLETELY one-way conversation with Powers That Be: I still think they got “too woolly and messy”. I hated S4 it didn’t fit with my expectations that the story was going to get simpler instead of more convoluted... that it was going to be so clear and transparent that I could sit on the chesterfield (hehee) next to my parents and let the TV do most of the talking for me. But I’ve grown up a bit since those days. 
> 
> BBC Sherlock is a plane. There are many people on the ground, all over the world that would like to greet it where it lands and they flock to the tarmac: banners and glow-sticks waving...
> 
> On one strip are the fans that think they’re just bro-mancing up London, methodically solving mysteries like the two big bros-before-hoes they’ve always been through history (and wouldn’t it be a travesty to fuck with history?)
> 
> On another, the Sherlolly flag flies high... Sherlock’s in love, as the promo promised us, and who better with than the obvious choice: (hasn’t there always been such chemistry between them?)
> 
> On a third (perhaps the smallest contingent, but definitely the noisiest) proclaiming that if they see that plane land with Amanda or Louise stepping off in any capacity, they are going to (metaphorically only, one hopes!) club them with a nail-studded bat, as evidenced by their online rhetoric EVERY SINGLE TIME someone at the BBC or otherwise attempts to laud the characters, to this very day. Ah. “True” Love. 
> 
> If someone with meager fortitude was flying that plane, they might give up at three. They might look out the cockpit window, say ‘fuck it’ and crash in the ocean. But I think the pilots have always been looking to that place that isn’t paved yet. Of course, I could be falling victim to the same fallacy as everyone else and just seeing what I want to see. The interesting thing to me is this: can people celebrate something that wasn’t the story they were expecting? 
> 
> The cognitive giants of that third welcome wagon think that Dale Pike’s attention whoredom has always been a call to join my ranks in some spirited crusade of fuckery. Here it is, then: 
> 
> I want to flip a very spirited Toby Tall at Auntie Beeb for treating us like puppets... followed by a winky Thumbs Up: Good Story. And I want the rest of the world to see WHO the clever ones are, and what matters. But I don’t give a good goddamn if anyone comes with me or not. In fact, I’d prefer that some of you stay home... you’re stinking up the cabin: more Normies are gonna wake up and parachute out if you don’t slap on some pit-stick and spruce yourselves up a bit.
> 
> As long as AO3 doesn’t delete my stories, I will stand here, on the grass, in the dark, with my candle in hand, as I always have. I will look around, to see if anyone is here with me. Occasionally, I will give a friendly shout or wave to someone that seems to feel similarly and wants to light this plane home. I will talk... because that’s what people do. If someone from one of the other taxiway contingents calls me stupid or delusional or ill-intentioned, I will probably talk to them too, with manners that befit the Commonwealth if at all possible (and if you don’t believe me on that, browse the comments sections of any of my stories). “For, though the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power.” (ah! I always love an opportunity to quote V!) 
> 
> And yes, Fury, I will whore myself for that concept all over your silly little town, any day, any time.
> 
> It’s foolish, I know, to think that I’d to be able to cast much light with just one candle. Hell; I don’t even have any certainty that the plane’s gonna land in that place, or IF it’s ever going to land at all! But here’s the thing... I haven’t ever been doing it because I think it’s the “correct” place. 
> 
> I’m doing it because I think it’s the right one.
> 
> And you don’t need to hold a candle with me. But you’re welcome to; no matter who you are.


End file.
